In a vaulted room in the east tower there is a remarkable echo; and thither musical parties frequently resort during the fine season to spread their pic-nic, and exercise their vocal powers. This apartment is considered to have been the prison to which captives, or hostages of distinction, were formerly consigned;[233]and certainly no place in the Castle presents an air of more “hopeless security.” In the court below—as represented in a former woodcut—several pieces of ancient armour, and some heavy cannon shot, are shown to the visitor, as illustrative of the times to which they belong. The next compartment is
The Paved Court.—All the buildings on the right of this court, particularly the Closet Tower—the third pentagonal tower at the entrance—suffered greatly from the enemy’s cannon during the siege; and here, on the north-east side of the wall, the breach was effected that hastened the capitulation. The Pitched, or Paved Court, the area of which was once the parade ground, thronged with armed men, as they joined in some military fête, or entered on some warlike preparation for the siege, is now surrounded by only crumblingwalls, and as verdant as a bowling-green. The towering battlements are all richly festooned with ivy. Every crevice sends forth its trees and shrubs, that seem to luxuriate in the old mortar; and under the same canopy of leaves, as already noticed, birds of song and birds of ill omen congregate together. At the extremity of the Paved Court, on the right, as we proceed westward, and from the point marked by a seat under a shady ash-tree, the visitor obtains an imposing view of the architecture on the south side, which, with all its dilapidations, is eminently picturesque. “Its boundary is there hung with the richest tapestry that Nature can weave—a mantling vestment of evergreen—through which appears, in grand proportions, the majestic window of the Hall of State.” This is a prominent feature in the steel engraving.
The Kitchen.—At the extremity of the court, and opposite to the portal, is an archway leading to the kitchen, which occupies the area of a pentagonal tower, projecting beyond the walls northward, and of narrow compass, but great solidity and strength. In an office adjoining is an extensive fireplace, the arch of which, thirteen feet in the span, is formed by two massive stones. The wide capacious chimney is worthy of notice. Beneath the kitchen is a room in perfect preservation, called the Wet Larder, which may be easily reached by a subterranean passage. From the kitchen a passage leads southward across the lower end of the Pitched Court to the Buttery, and this again to the common
Dining-Hall, or Parlour.—This apartment measures forty-nine feet in length by twenty-one in breadth, with an opening at the east end into a narrow cross passage, which also communicates, by three openings or doors, with the great Hall, which lies between the Pitched Court and the Chapel, and occupies nearly the whole space between this dining-hall and the Officers’ Tower, at the great entrance. Adjoining these is the
Baronial Hall.—This stately apartment, running parallel with the ancient chapel, occupies the interval between the two inner courts, and measures sixty-six feet in length by twenty-eight in breadth. The chief indications of its original grandeur consist in the majestic proportions—all of elegant design and masterly execution. The great bay-window is a feature that cannot fail to excite admiration; and were no other left entire, it would serve to convey a very distinct picture of that feudal magnificence which was in character with the splendour of its architecture. The fireplace, ten feet wide by eight feet high, is well adapted to the size of the apartment, and to those times when, instead of pit-coal, the branches or bole of a tree blazed on the winter hearth.
Arms.—The arms of the Marquisate of Worcester, cut in stone, but much obliterated, adorn the eastern wall; for the noble badge was an offensive object to the republicans; and, on their taking possession of the castle, it was probably
The Baronial Hall.Raglan Castle.
The Baronial Hall.Raglan Castle.
The Baronial Hall.
Raglan Castle.
used as a target,[234]and thus wantonly defaced. Over the fire-place, as shown in the engraving, is the letter W. worked in brick.
Roof.—The geometrical roof, which once covered this noble hall, is allowed by all writers on the subject to have been of admirable construction. It was of Irish oak of the best quality, nicely adjusted, elaborately carved, and so ingeniously framed and fastened together, that the whole appeared as firm as if it had been chiselled out of a solid block; yet withal so lofty, so light and airy in appearance, that it seemed rather to be suspended from the sky above, than to rest upon the corbel heads and walls which it covered and adorned. In the centre was a gothic louvre adorned with painted glass, through which the descending light streamed upon the assembled guests—their arms, dresses, and accoutrements, in all the colours of the rainbow.
At the lower end of the hall is the Buttery, an apartment, thirty-two feet long by eighteen broad; and attached to this is another of equal dimensions, called the Pantry.
Officers’ Barracks.—Opposite the door of the great Hall, on the south, was a range of apartments, used as lodgings for the superior officers of the garrison. During the siege these were razed to the ground by the enemy’s artillery; so that the area on which they stood is now confounded with that of the Fountain Court. The latter apartments are distinct from those already described.
The Chapel.—The Baronial Chapel stands in the rear of the apartments named. It is a long narrow structure, running parallel with the great Hall, and forming the north side of the Fountain Court; but the vestiges that remain convey no distinct notion of its architectural style and decorations; which were, no doubt, in harmony with other sacred buildings of that age and its character of a baronial chapel. If, however, we may form any opinion from two rudely carved stone effigies[235]projecting from the wall on the north side, and nearly covered with ivy, we should form but a very unfavourable estimate of its ornamental sculpture: unless, indeed, the deformity they exhibit be the result of wilful violence; and as they are at a good height, and not approachable in the ordinary way, we had no means of ascertaining the fact by close inspection. But the corbel heads, from which the arches sprung, do not appear to justify a more favourable opinion; for the workmanship exhibits neither skill in the design, nor spirit in the execution. The Chapel, therefore, was of a date perhaps much anterior to the surrounding buildings, and coeval with that of the Keep, or “Tower of Gwent,” a work of the eleventh century.
The Fountain Court.—This court was formerly adorned with an equestrian statue, mounted on a lofty pedestal, and embellished with a fountain—the water for which was brought at great expense from the neighbouring hills—and, after being thrown up in jets-d’eau, was conveyed into the fish-ponds adjoining, so as to combine in its progress the useful with the ornamental. But the pedestal, the marble basin, and the statue, with every other fragment of the structure, have disappeared. The pipes that conveyed the water have been ploughed up in the fields adjoining the castle; but the classic beauty of the fountain lives in the history and traditions of the place: and from a laughable incident related in the “Apophthegms,” and which will be found in another portion of this work, we may infer that the Marquess of Worcester took great pleasure in this kind of embellishments.[236]
South-west Tower.—Ascending the flight of steps commencing at the grand entrance, on the south side of the court, we were conducted through the desolate apartments, known traditionally as those occupied by Charles the First, after his flight from Naseby. This tower, and the whole range of apartments connected with it, are in a state of complete dilapidation; and were it not for the wooden scaffolding that secures and facilitates the visitor’s progress, a tour of the ramparts would be impracticable. A lady, we were told, who happened to be near this spot during a rather high wind, was blown over the wall; but an umbrella, which she had fortunately open in her hand, acted like a parachute, and broke her fall; and thus she alighted among the shrubs beneath without sustaining any material injury.
In these royal apartments, we were shown a tunnel, like a chimney, in the wall of the king’s chamber, communicating with the outer rampart, by means of which, in case of surprise or danger, the royal fugitive could have been lowered in a basket, and enabled to make his escape beyond the walls. Had a similar contrivance existed at Carisbrook, it would have served his purpose better. But there he was indeed a prisoner. Here he had the lives and services of a whole garrison at his command; with Worcester himself, the most devoted friend the king ever possessed, to provide against every danger, and supply every want.
A light and elegant stone window is here pointed out as that to which the king often resorted, on account of the richly variegated and extensive view which it commands of hill and dale, wood and water; trees, hamlets, and farmhouses, covering a rich and well-cultivated tract of land. These natural beauties are as fresh as ever; while the splendid building, from which he then
Gateway in the Fountain Court.Raglan Castle.
Gateway in the Fountain Court.Raglan Castle.
Gateway in the Fountain Court.
Raglan Castle.
contemplated the scene, is reduced to a lonely ruin—thus apostrophized by the muse of Bloomfield:—
“Majestic Raglan! harvests waveWhere thundering hosts their watchword gave;When cavaliers, with downcast eye,Struck the last flag of loyalty!”
“Majestic Raglan! harvests waveWhere thundering hosts their watchword gave;When cavaliers, with downcast eye,Struck the last flag of loyalty!”
“Majestic Raglan! harvests waveWhere thundering hosts their watchword gave;When cavaliers, with downcast eye,Struck the last flag of loyalty!”
The Cellars.—These subterranean receptacles are of vast extent; and, in massive strength and proportions—like a crypt under a cathedral—are worthy of the noble edifice that covers them. In times of danger, and particularly during the siege, they appear to have served the manifold purposes of cellars, storehouses, larders, magazines, and muniments of war, with provisions for a numerous garrison and household.
At the north-eastern part of the court, the buildings were nearly all mutilated, or thrown down by the enemy’s batteries, which, from a rising ground in the line of his approach, played with destructive force upon this portion of the walls. Fragments, however, still remain to show the predominant features of the Castle—its strength and beauty. From this point, we are told, communication with the citadel was secured by means of a sumptuous arched bridge, with a gate to correspond. But of these no distinct vestiges are left. The “sumptuous bridge” is replaced by a rustic structure of wood; the moat it spans is half filled with decayed vegetables and debris; and the water, that formerly enclosed the Keep like a wall of crystal, is now covered with a sluggish green surface, that exhibits a very different kind of life.
In other parts of the moat, however, it is deep and transparent, mostly so at the south corner, where masses of verdure—with a particularly old and very picturesque tree, as shown in the illustration—are reflected as if in a mirror. This is probably the most interesting point of view in the whole Castle. Of a still summer evening, about sunset, the outline of the gray towers and battlements, with all their contrasted features of light and shade, beauty and decay—here fringed with wood, and there displaying honourable scars—sleeps on the face of the water like an inverted picture. The scene, with all its singular accompaniments, has then a dreaminess of romance about it, similar to that which the Fata Morgana conjures up on the Straits of Messina—but with this important difference, that the scenery here, however romantic, is real and substantial; that all we behold is the work of Art, over which Nature has only thrown her splendid illusion of cloud, sunshine, and exuberant vegetation.
Tower of Gwent.—This tall and massive structure, built as if to defy the united force of time and violence, forms the Citadel or Donjon-Tower of the fortress; and points very expressively to those remote times, when the peace of a great man’s household depended on the strength of his walls, and thenumber and courage of his retainers. In a direct line with this Castle were three gates; the first of brick, from which, at the distance of one hundred and eighty feet, and with an ascent of many steps, was the White Gate, built of square stone. At some distance on the left stands theMelin y Gwent, or Yellow Tower of Gwent, which for strength, height, and workmanship, surpassed most other towers, if not every other, in England or Wales. It had six sides, each thirty-two feet wide, and ten feet thick, built of square stone, and in height five stories. Its battlements, never meant to resist cannon shot, are only eight inches thick; but so symmetrical and compactly set, that they appear as if cut out of a solid block. During the siege—hereafter to be described—this portion was soon demolished by the batteries directed against it by Fairfax; but his heaviest guns, eighteen and twenty pounders, took no more effect on the body of the tower, than if they had opened upon a solid rock.[237]Our ancestors appear to have been particularly well skilled in the composition of their cement, which in Raglan is now nearly as hard as the stones it holds together. When the Goths and Vandals of the country—the blind instruments of Fairfax—were summoned to demolish with their pickaxes what the besiegers’ cannon had spared, their republican zeal was attended with little success; for “after battering of the top,” they were obliged, as we shall see, to desist from that method as fruitless, and adopt other means for its destruction.[238]
This Tower communicated with the Castle by means of an elegant arched bridge encircled by an outer wall, with six arched and embattled turrets, all of square stone. Adjoining this was a deep moat, thirty feet broad, and supplied by a clear running stream, from which the water-works, so much the fashion in those days, threw up columns of water as high as the Castle battlements. Along the edge of the moat, was a commodious sunken walk, embellished with grotto-work, statues of the Twelve Cæsars, and otherwise ornamented with the choicest productions of Nature and Art. This was the walk to which the family could resort at all seasons, whether for exercise or meditation. Within the walls and the green adjoining—then the bowling-green, and twelve feet higher than the walk—was a garden plat, the size of which was proportioned to the tower. Next to this plat—as shown in the accompanying ground-plan—stood the Barn.
In casting the eye over the whole circuit of these buildings, the mind is astonished at the immense labour which must have been exerted to collect together such a quantity of materials of various descriptions. And here it may
The Moat.Raglan Castle.
The Moat.Raglan Castle.
The Moat.
Raglan Castle.
be observed that the majority of these baronial mansions are situated on, or near, the bank of some navigable river, for the purpose of defending some important pass or fortress, by means of which the carriage of stone is attended with comparatively little expense or trouble; but in the present instance, there is no navigable river nearer than the Wye, from which the Castle is distant at Monmouth ten, and at Chepstow twelve miles.[239]And what is very remarkable, there is no quarry in the neighbourhood from which the stone employed in building the Castle could have been procured. It is of a light grey colour, and very hard; but the name of the quarter from which it was taken is still a matter of vague conjecture. No such stone as that used for the chimney-pieces of Raglan is now to be found in Monmouthshire. Such is the neatness and exactness with which the facing stones are laid, that they exhibit the same perfect appearance as if the artist had but just left the scaffold. “The bricks which compose the south wall are extremely well baked, and of a quality not less durable than that of the stone.”
In the present day, we can form but a very imperfect notion of the extent to which the original outworks were carried. When the demesnes of ancient families are let out as farms, the tenant soon brings about a revolution of ancient purposes. He adapts the whole to modern uses—to whatever will best enable him to pay his rent. He calculates how many bushels of potatoes will grow on the slope; how much the lawn will yield to the plough, how much to pasturage; and how much grass may be annually shorn from the old Bowling-green.
So has it fared with the renowned fortress of Raglan.[240]With little interest in its history, little reverence for its ancient lords, every successive tenant, during a long series of years, has only studied how to turn it to the best advantage. Its ancient gardens have been obliterated; its lawns converted into pasture; its fountains, streams, and fish-ponds have been dried up; its materials carted away to erect some farmer’s homestead; its walls, that so stoutly resisted the enemy’s shot, and returned it with interest, seem to feel their degradation, and strive to hide it under a mantle of ivy.[241]Now, however, the grounds are kept in good order; while every feature and fragment of the venerable ruin are preserved with exemplary care by the resident warden, who happily possesses a taste for archæology.
The accompanyingground-planwill enable the reader to trace the various apartments of theCastlein the same order in which they are described, and to follow with more interest the details of theSiege, upon which we are now to enter.
“Our Donjon-tower is stout and tall,Each rampart mann’d and steady;And loyal hearts, from every wall,Shout—‘Roundheads!we are ready!’Then here’s a health toCharlesour King;And eke to nobleWorcester!To each, to-morrow’s fight shall bringNew loyalty and lustre!Then hoist the Royal Standard high!And crown ourChiefwith laurels!And where’s the man that would not dieIn combating forCharles?” &c. &c.
“Our Donjon-tower is stout and tall,Each rampart mann’d and steady;And loyal hearts, from every wall,Shout—‘Roundheads!we are ready!’Then here’s a health toCharlesour King;And eke to nobleWorcester!To each, to-morrow’s fight shall bringNew loyalty and lustre!Then hoist the Royal Standard high!And crown ourChiefwith laurels!And where’s the man that would not dieIn combating forCharles?” &c. &c.
“Our Donjon-tower is stout and tall,Each rampart mann’d and steady;And loyal hearts, from every wall,Shout—‘Roundheads!we are ready!’
Then here’s a health toCharlesour King;And eke to nobleWorcester!To each, to-morrow’s fight shall bringNew loyalty and lustre!
Then hoist the Royal Standard high!And crown ourChiefwith laurels!And where’s the man that would not dieIn combating forCharles?” &c. &c.
We have next to take a brief survey of that portion of the Revolutionary movements, with which the history ofRaglanand its loyal garrison are so closely associated.
“The Parliament had now,” says Lord Clarendon, “such footing in Pembrokeshire, that many of the principal gentlemen had declared for them; and the harbour of Milford Haven gave their fleet opportunity to give them all supplies and relief.” This being the state of those parts,
The Lord Herbert, eldest son of the Marquess of Worcester, not only offered but desired to receive that command, and engaged himself “not only to secure it from the opposition and malignity of the other party; but before the spring to raise such a strength of horse and foot, and to provide such an equipage to march with, that might reduce Gloucester, and then be added to the King’s army when he should be ready to take the field. And all this so much at his own charge, for his father, the Marquess, who was well able, would furnish the money—as was pretended upon the King’s promise to repay him when he should be restored to his own—that he would receive no part of the King’s revenue, or of such money as his Majesty could be able to draw for the supply of his own more immediate occasions.”
This was a very great offer, and such as no man else could so reasonably make: for “the Marquess of Worcester was generally reputed the greatest mony’d man in the kingdom; and probably might not think it an unthrifty thing rather to disburse it for the King—who might be able to repay it—than to have it taken from him by the other party; which would be hardly questioned if they prevailed.”[242]
The Lord Herbert himself “was a man of more than ordinary affection for the King; and one who, he was sure, would not betray him. For his religion, it might work upon himself, but would not disquiet other men. For though he were a Papist, he was never like to make others so; and his reputation and interest were very great with many gentlemen of those counties, who were not at all friends to his religion. It was to be hoped that the old grudges and prejudices, which had been rather against the house of Worcester and the Popish religion professed there, than against the person of their lord, would have been composed, and declined by his fair and gentle carriage towards all men—as of truth he was of a civil and obliging nature—and by the public-heartedness of those who, for the Cause and conscience’ sake would, it was hoped, sacrifice all trivial and private contentions to a union that must vindicate the religion, honour, and justice of the kingdom. Upon these reasons and these presumptions, the King granted such a commission as is before-mentioned to the Lord Herbert; who, with more expedition than was expected by many, or by others believed possible, raised a body of above fifteen hundred foot, and near five hundred horse, very well and sufficiently armed, which increased the merit of the service.”[243]
Of the royalist army, raised and paid by the Marquess of Worcester, the command of the infantry was given to Major-General Lawley; that of the cavalry to Lord John Somerset, his second son; while Lord Herbert took the field as Commander-in-chief. Immediately on its being ascertained that Monmouth had declared for the Parliament, Lord Herbert placed himself at the head of a body of troops, and, joined by a party of volunteers from Goodrich, placed them behind a rising ground near the town. Here, with about forty intrepid followers, he proceeded to reconnoitre the enemy’s position, and surmounting an earthen mound which they had thrown up, he passed the ditch, and put the guard to the sword. They next succeeded in breaking the port chain and forced an entrance for the cavalry; then, joining their comrades, they entered the town at full gallop, and, surrounding the main guard, made them prisoners. “The result of this expedition was the capture of Col. Broughton, four captains, four lieutenants and ensigns, the republican committee, and all the private soldiers, with a considerable quantity of arms and ammunition.”
Raglan Castleby this time had been put into a state of thorough defence, with a garrison of eight hundred men, many distinguished officers, and all the necessaries for maintaining a long and vigorous resistance. The Marquess himself—then on the verge of fourscore—infused by his presence and conversation an invincible spirit of loyalty into the garrison; and provisioned as it was, the place might well be viewed as almost impregnable.
The clashing exploit of Lord Herbert, however, was speedily followed by a mortifying reverse; for as theKing’sarmy was on its march to Gloucester, it was met near Coleford by a rabble force of disaffected peasantry, whose object was to obstruct the Royalists in their passage through the Forest of Dean; and a scuffle ensuing, Colonel Lawley, the captain-in-chief, was mortally wounded by a stone.[244]But order being restored, and Colonel Brett taking the command, the Royalists continued their march until arriving on the right bank of the Severn, they threw up defences at the “Vineyard”—the Bishop’s palace—and there fixed their quarters. But in the meantime, Sir William Waller, who was then with a regiment of horse on the borders of Worcestershire, put himself in motion, and by forced marches took up his position in front of theRoyalists. This sudden apparition threw them into a panic; for, considering themselves in their newly-fortified position quite secure from all danger of surprise, Lord Herbert had gone to wait upon theKingat Oxford; while his brother, Lord John, who commanded the horse, had set out with two or three troops on a reconnoitering party; so that no officer of skill or authority was left to direct or head the forces. All, therefore, was instant confusion in the camp; for, although their position was strong, well supplied with cannon, and certainly not to be stormed by any amount of cavalry that could be brought against them, yet they abandoned all thoughts of defence, and without striking a blow, surrendered to the first summons from Waller, on the simple grant of quarter.
This unexpected disaster was a death-blow to the army of Worcester; “the raising of which was considered such an effort on the part of theMarquess, that it could hardly have been accomplished by any other nobleman in the realm.” That “mushroom army grew up and perished so soon, that the loss of it was scarce apprehended at Oxford, because the strength, or rather the numerical force, was not understood. But had the money,” as Lord Clarendon observes, “that was laid out in raising and paying a body of men, who never in the least degree advanced the royal interest, been brought into the King’s receipt at Oxford, and employed to the most advantage, the war might have been ended the next summer; for I have heard the Lord Herbert say, that those preparations, and others which by that defeat were rendered useless, cost above three score thousand pounds; the greatest part of which”—an enormous sum in those times—“was advanced by his father, the Marquess of Worcester.”[245]We now proceed to notice the
Royal Visit to Raglan, which in its loyal devotion remained unshaken by these reverses; and the following anecdote gives us a favourable idea of the good humour, combined with courtly magnificence, with which Lord Worcester entertained the King on his first visit to the Castle. We relate the anecdote on the authority of the family Chaplain:—
“Sir Thomas Somerset, brother to the Marquess, had a house which they called Troy—the principal residence of the Duke of Beaufort—within five miles of Raglan Castle. Sir Thomas Somerset being a neate man, both within and without his house, as he was a complete gentleman of himself every way, delighted very much in fine gardens and orchards, and in replenishing and ordering them with all the varieties of choicest fruits that could be got, and in defending his new plantations from the coldness of the climate by the benefit of art. The earth, that was so much made of, proved so grateful to him, that,at the same time that the King happened to be at his brother’s house at Raglan, it yielded him wherewithal to send his brother Worcester such a present, as at that time of the year and place, was able to make the King and all his lords believe that the Sovereign of the Planets, with all his prime electors, had new changed the Poles; and thatWales, the refuse and outcast of the fair garden of England, had fairer and riper fruit growing upon her stone rubbish, than England’s levels had in all her beds. This, presented to the Marquess, he could not suffer to be presented to the King by any other hands except his own. In comes the Marquess, at the latter end of supper, led by the arm, having such a goodly presence with him, that his being led became him, rather like some ceremony of state, than shew of impotence; and his slow pace, occasioned by his infirmity, expressed a Spanish gravity, rather than feebleness. Thus, with a silver dish in each hand filled with rarities, and a little basket upon his arm, as a supply, in case his Majesty should be over bountiful of his favours to the ladies that were standers by, he makes his third obeysance and thus speaks:—
“‘May it please your Majesty, if the four elements could have been rob’d to have entertained your Majesty, I think I had done my duty; but I must do as I may. If I had sent to Bristol for some good things to entertain your Majesty, there had been no wonder at all. If I had procured from London some goodnesse that might have been acceptable to your Majesty, that had been no wonder indeed. But here I present your Majesty’—placing his dishes upon the table—‘with what neither came from Lincoln that was, nor London that is, nor York that is to be;[246]but I assure your Majesty that this present came fromTroy.’ Whereupon the King smiled, and answered the Marquess—‘Truly, my lord, I have heard that corne[247]now growes where Troy town once stood; but I never thought there had grown any apricocks there before.’ Whereupon the Marquess replied—‘Anything to please your Majesty.’
“The fruit was very much admired by every one, and it was acknowledged by all that were in the presence at that time, that they never saw the King served in greater state in all their lives. There were some about the King who followed my Lord Marquess when he departed the presence, and told his lordship that he would make a very good courtier. ‘Aye,’ said the Marquess, ‘I remember I said one thing that may give you some hopes of me—Anything to please your Majesty.’”
Of the Marquess’s farther proficiency in the art and mystery of a courtier, during the royal visit, we find this specimen:—
“The Marquess had a mind to tell the King, as handsomely as he could, of some of his, as he thought,faults; and thus he continues his plot: Against the time that his Majesty was wont to give his lordship a visit, as commonly he used to do after dinner, his lordship had the book of John Gower lying before him on the table. The King casting his eye upon the book, told the Marquess he had never seen it before. ‘Oh!’ said the Marquis, ‘it is the book of books, which if your Majesty had been well versed in, it would have made you a king of kings.’ ‘Why so, my Lord?’ said the King. ‘Why,’ said the Marquess, ‘here is set down how Aristotle brought up and instructed Alexander the Great in all the rudiments and principles belonging to a prince.’ And under the persons of Alexander and Aristotle, he read the King such a lesson, that all the standers by were amazed at his boldness; and the King supposing that he had gone farther than his text would have given him leave, asked the Marquess, ‘If he said his lesson byheart, or whether he spoke out of the book?’ The Marquess replied, ‘Sir, if you could read my heart, it may be you might find it there; or, if your Majesty please to get it by heart, I will lend you my book.’ Which latter proffer the King accepted of, and did borrow it. ‘Nay,’ said the Marquess, ‘I will lend it you upon these conditions: First, That you read it; secondly, That you make use of it.’ But perceiving how that some of the new-made lords fretted, and bit their thumbs at certain passages in the Marquess’s discourse, he thought a little to please his Majesty, though he pleased not them, the men who were so much displeased already protesting unto his Majesty, that no man was so much for the absolute power of a king as Aristotle. Desiring the book out of the King’s hand, he told the King that he would show him one remarkable passage to that purpose, turning to that place that had this verse:—
“A king can kill, a king can save,A king can make a lord a knave,And of a knave a lord also,” &c.
“A king can kill, a king can save,A king can make a lord a knave,And of a knave a lord also,” &c.
“A king can kill, a king can save,A king can make a lord a knave,And of a knave a lord also,” &c.
“Whereupon there were divers new-made lords who slunk out of the roome, which the King observing, told the Marquess—‘My lord, at this rate, you will drive away all my Nobility!’
“The Marquess replied—‘I protest unto your Majesty, I am as new a made lord as any of them all;[248]but I was never called knave and rogue so much in all my life, as I have been since I received this last honour, and why should not they bear their shares?’”
But the Marquess, like many of the King’s party, seems to have wanted that undoubting confidence of success, which not unfrequently secures it. How different from the determined tone of a Cromwell is this:—“When the King first entered the gates of Raglan, the Marquess delivered his Majesty the keys, according to the ordinary custom; the King restoring of them to the Marquis, the Marquis said, ‘I beseech your Majesty to keep them, and you please, for they are in a good hand; but I am afraid that ere it be long, I shall be forced to deliver them into the hands of those who will spoil the compliment.’”And so it happened.
The plans taken by the King, while residing in Raglan Castle, to persuade the Marquess of Worcester to farther advances of money, afford a subject for a humiliating chapter in the royal history. The aged Marquess had three ruling principles—loyalty to the King, attachment to the Roman Catholic religion, and fondness for money. His loyalty had been already extensively drawn upon, and there remained now to be tried an attempt upon his proselytizing zeal. He had now to be flattered with the idea that he might possibly persuade the King to profess the tenets of his ancestors. Charles, indeed, had not made great progress in Protestant doctrines; and the Marquess, confident in his theological powers, imagined he would find an easy convert. Here is Dr. Bayly’s account of the matter:—
“Thus affected was that noble and, indeed, in his way, heavenly disposed, Henry, late Marquess of Worcester, to play the greatest prize that ever was played between any two that ever entered within those lists. Three diadems were to encounter with the tripple crowne, and the tripple crowne with three sceptres. Opportunity, that lucky gamester, that hardly loses a game in twenty, was on the Marquess’ side; time and place directed him how to take points in his own tables; the King at that time being in the Marquess’s own house at Raglan, and necessitated to borrow money to buy bread, after so great a loss in battle. The King being thus put to play the aftergame with the old Marquess, was a little mistrustful that he had not played the foregame with him so well, as that he had not thereby prejudiced the latter: for, though the Marquess and his son were the two ablest and most forward’st shoulderers up of the declining throne, especially the chip of the old block, whose disposition expressed itself most noble in not caring who had loved the King, so that he might be but permitted to love Alexander; whom he affected not only with the loyal respects of a subject towards his soveraigne, but also with such passionate ways of expressions and laboriousnesse in all good offices, as are wont to be predominant in those in whom simpathy is the only ground of their affections; yet there were not wanting some kind of men who made the averseness of this nobleman’s religion an occasion of improving their ownenvies. Which, though it could never lose him the least ground in his master’s good opinion of him—who never would judge no more a saint by his face than a devil by his feet, but both according to their several ingagements—yet there were some things which happened, as having relation to this family, which were not altogether pleasing. However, though his Majesty came thither ushered by necessity, yet he came neither unwelcomed nor uninvited; and entertained as if he had been more than a king, by reason of some late atchievements, rather than otherwise: and though money came from him like drops of blood, yet he was contented that every drop within his body should be let out at his command, so that he might performe so meritorious a piece of worke as, he thought, the being an instrument of bringing the father of his country to be the son of his church, would be unto his soul’s health. The Marquess having these resolutions within himselfe, thought to give them breath at the same time that his Majesty should make his motion for a further supply of money, which he daily and hourly expected; but was deceived in his expectations; for the relation having already reach’d the King’s ear, how an accident had made me no less fortunate to his lordship, than in being the means of preserving his lordship’s person, and no inconsiderable fortune then in the same venture with him; and how that I preserved both the one and the other, in concealing both, for the space that the moon useth to be twice in riding of her circuit,[249](the particulars hereof, here to insert, would tend rather to much arrogance than any purpose, wherefore I further forbear,) until such time as the trust which Providence had reposed in me was crowned by the same hand with such successe as brought the Marquess safe to his own house in peace; which I had no sooner brought to passe, but the Marquess drew from me a solemn engagement never to leave him so long as we both should live; which I was so careful for to observe, that I neither left him in life nor death, faire weather nor foule, until such time as he left me, and I laid him under the ground in Windsor Castle, in the sepulchre of his fathers.”
The author of the notice of the Marquess of Worcester in “Lodge’s Portraits,” says, that “the adventure here alluded to by Dr. Bayly is and must remain unknown.” It is, however, made sufficiently clear in the “First Apophthegm,” where Bayly tells us that he met the Marquess in the Welsh mountains, “flying a danger with a softer pace than it made after him.” Bayly, whose knowledge of the country must necessarily have been great, had it in his power to conceal the Marquess. This was their first meeting, and they ever after were inseparable. In nearly the words already used, Bayly in this passage also says, “From which time forward,until the time that I laid him in his grave in Windsor Castle, I never parted from him.”
He continues—“And it was a strange thing, that during the time that I was thus a bond-servant to his lordship, which was for the space of twelve monethes thrice told, the difference in religion never wrought the least difference in his disposals of trusts of the highest nature upon me; but his speeches often shewed his heart, and his often lending me his ear, that they were both as much mine as any man’s. Of which, it seems, his Majesty being informed, I must be the beetle-head that must drive this wedge into the royall stock; and was also told, that no man could make a divorce between the Babilonish garment and the wedge of gold sooner than myself. To be brief—I was ingaged in the business; I could neither deny the employment, nor well tell how to go about it, I, not knowing the Marquess’ drift all this while, thought the Marquess had feared nothing more than what I myself was most afraid of, viz., that I should be made an instrument to let the same horse bleed, whom the King himself had found so free, that he was unwilling to give him the least touch with his spur. Howsoever, I went about it, and thus began to tell his lordship:—‘My Lord, the thing that I feared is now fallen upon me; I am made the unwelcome messenger of bad news—the King wants money!’ At which word the Marquess interrupted me, saying, ‘Hold, sir, that’s no news; go on with your business.’ ‘My Lord,’ said I, ‘there is one comfort yet, that as the King is brought low, so are his demands; and, like his army, are come down from thousands to hundreds: and from paying the souldiers of his army to buying bread for himself and his followers. My Lord, it is the King’s own expression, and his desire is but three hundred pound.’ Whereupon my Lord made a long pause before he gave me one word of answer. I knew by experience that in such cases it was best leaving him to himself, and to let that nature, which was so good, worke itselfe into an act of the highest charity—like the diamond, which is only pollished with its own dust. At last he called me nearer to him, and asked me, ‘If the King himself had spoken to me concerning any such business?’ To which I answered, ‘That the King himself had not; but others did in the King’s hearing.’ Whereupon he said, ‘Might I but speak unto him—but I was never thought worthy to be consulted with, though in matters meerly concerning the affaires of my own country—I would supply his wants, were they never so great, or whatsoever they were.’ Whereupon I told his lordship that, ‘If the King knew as much, he might quickly speak with him.’ Then said the Marquess, ‘The way to have him know so much is to have somebody to tell him of it.’ I asked his lordship, ‘If he would give me leave to be the informer.’ He told me, ‘He spake it to the same purpose.’ I hastened from him, with as much feare ofbeing called back again, as I did towards the King, with a longing desire of giving his Majesty so good an account of my so much doubted embassie.
“Half going and half running through the gallerie, I was stopt in my way by one Lieutenant-Collonel Lyllard, who told me, that if ever I had a mind to do my Lord Marquess and the garrison any good, now was the time: for even now one of the King’s ships had run herself on ground under the town of Chepstow. Calling unto me the captain of her (one Captain Hill), who related unto me that upon the surrender of Bristol he was forced to fly into the sanctuary of the King’s quarters, having formerly revolted from the Parliament, or rather returned to her due obedience. Telling me, moreover, that she was fraught with store of goods and rich commodities, as sugar, tobacco, linnen of all sorts, &c., and that the law in such a case appropriated the King to such a part of her lading; which I better understood then than I can relate unto you now; and that she had many fair brass and iron guns in her, with proportionable ammunition, usefull for the garrison; and that, for a word of speaking, I might have all this of the King for the use of the garrison. I (considering that it would be nevertheless the King’s for being converted to such an use, as also the business I was about) made no doubt but that I could easily beg all this for the Marquess, in consideration of the great charges his lordship had been at in entertaining his Majesty so long. Neither was I deceived, for the King granted it willingly.
“But as to the matter in hand, I told his Majesty apart, that I had moved his lordship in matter of money; but found him a little discouraged, in regard that his Majestie having been twice at Raglan a moneth at a time, and that at neither of those times he ever vouchsafed his lordship so much honour as once to call him to councel, though it was in his own house, and must needs be acknowledged to be one who knew the countrey, and the constitution of the inhabitants, better than any other man that was about his Majestie had reason to understand. Wherefore I told the King, I thought his lordship leant my motion a deffer ear than he would have done, if his lordship had not been thought so uselesse a creature; and that I perceived his lordship had a desire to have some conference with his Majestie; which being obtained, I believed his Majestie’s request would be easilie granted, and his expectations answered in a higher measure than it may be his Majestie did believe. The King said, ‘With all my hart: and as to the other business which so much troubles my lord, in troth I have thought it a neglect in us heretofore; but the true reason why I did forbear to do so was, because I thought my Lord of Worcester did not desire it, by reason of his retiredness, unwieldiness of body, and unwillingness of mind to stir abroad; and therefore I thought it a contentment to him to be let alone.’ I told his Majestie, that I did verilie believe that his Majestiewas in the rights in both respects, both of his Majestie’s and his lordship’s; and that if his Majestie had called him to councel, I do verilie believe his lordship would have been desired to be excused; but yet he did expect he should have been called. Whereupon the King said, ‘I pray tell my Lord of Worcester, that I did not forbear that respect unto him out of any disestimation I had either of his wisedome or loyaltie; but out of some reasons I had to myself, which indeed reflected as much upon my lord as they did on me. For had he used to have come to the councel board, it would have been said that I took no other councel but what was conveighed to me by Jesuites, by his lordship’s meanes: and I pray tell him that that was the true cause.’ I told his Majestie that I would, and that I thought it an easie matter to cause him to believe no less; but withal I intimated to his Majestie that I knew the Marquess had an earnest desire to have some private conference with his Majestie this night; which, if granted, it might conduce very much to his Majestie’s behoof. The King said, ‘How can that be?’ I told his Majestie that my lord had contrived it before his coming to the castle, and told his Majestie of the privacie of the conveighance. Thereat his Majestie smiled and said, ‘I know my lord’s drift well enough: either he means to chide me, or else to convert me to his religion.’ Whereupon I told his Majestie, I doubted not but that his Majestie was temptation-proof as well as he was correction-free; and that he might returne the same man he went, having made a profitable exchange of gold and silver for words and sleep.”[250]
It seems to have been thought necessary to make a great state secret of this conference; and, in order that the company might not observe any communication going on between the King and the Marquess, who, doubtless, knew his guests, he hastily made answer—“I will tell you what you shall do, so that you shall not need to fear any such thing. Go unto the yeoman of the wine cellar, and bid him leave the keys of the wine cellar with you, and all that you find in your way, invite them down unto the cellar, and shew them the keys, and I warrant you, you shall sweep the room of them if there were a hundred; and when you have done leave them there.”[251]This ruse appears to have been sosuccessful, that after Bayly published his book, some of those who had been in Raglan denied that ever there had been private conversations between the King and the Marquess. But Bayly’s good faith seems to have been unjustly suspected; and he replies to the objectors with humour and severity in his Preface to the “Apophthegms.”
The Marquis having “lain down, the Chaplain found him asleep when he went to let him know the time to meet the King was come. He expressed much annoyance and fear on account of what had been arranged; but after taking a pipe of tobacco and a little glassful ofaqua mirabilis, he recovered his spirits.”
Shortlyafter the King’s departure from Raglan, an adventure occurred which placed the venerable Marquess in a novel and rather ludicrous position. It was this:—
“There was a certain great man in the King’s army,[252]between whom and the house of Raglan,” says Bayly, “there was at that time animosity. The Marquess of Worcester had heard that this party should cast a dubious saying, as the case then stood, viz., ‘That he intended totakeRaglan in his way;’ and was so far as good as his word, as that he marched into the parke, and there drew up his men, and fac’d the Castle. Whereupon the line was manned, and command was given that none should be suffered to come near the line, nor within such a distance; which command was so observed, that some of the officers of the army approaching within the place prohibited, the centry bid stand. They did not. The centry called upon them again to stand. They refused. The Lieutenant called upon the centry to give fire. The centry, preferring the knowledge of his friends to his duty to his officer, did not give fire; but swore he would give fire if they did not stand. Whereupon one of them told him that it was such a Generall, and wonder’d that the officer would bid the souldier give fire upon him. The Generall forthwith coming to the drawbridge, desired to speak with the Lord Charles; whom he no sooner saluted, but required satisfaction for the affront. He was desired to come into the Castle, and told that the matter should be examined before him, and if any affront were given, he should receive satisfaction. Whereupon, being come within the Castle, the Lieutenant was sent for; who told the Generall, that though he knew him to be the Generall, yet, as a souldier, he was not to take any notice of him, until such times as he had declared himself, which when he did, he respected him accordingly. Furthermore telling him, that he had beenan old souldier, and that he had in other parts seen rewards given unto souldiers who stood centry, for firing upon their generall, having the like occasions; but never knew it a fault before. All this would not serve turn. The Generall said he was affronted, and must have satisfaction, requiring my lord to call a councell of warre, and to do him justice; and so took his leave and went his way. TheMarquessof Worcester, sleeping upon his bed all this while, and not dreaming of any of all this that had happened in the interim, hearing the whole relation, he asked all his officers, ‘Whether or no the Lieutenant had offended?’ They all answered, ‘No;’ and commended him for what he had done. Then said the Marquess, ‘This is but a pretence—they have a mind to quarrel with us. If ye should call a councell of warre, and acquit him, that is what they desire, and thence they would ground their quarrel; and if ye should inflict any punishment upon him to give them satisfaction, that were basenesse and injustice; therefore I will have it thus: Send a guard with him to the Generall of such souldiers as are able to witness the truth; and let him try him at his councell of warre, and see what law he hath for it, and so we shall break the neck of the quarrell.’
“‘And so,’ said the Lieutenant, ‘I shall hang by the neck for my labour!’ Whereat the Marquis replyed, ‘What friends hast thou in the garrison?’ The Lieutenant made answer, ‘I have a wife and a daughter.’ Then said the Marquis with some vehemence, ‘I protest unto thee, if they hang thee, I’ll marry thy wife and provide for thy daughter.’ The Lieutenant replied, ‘I had rather you would marry my daughter, and provide for me.’ ‘I protest,’ said the Marquess, ‘so I will; I will marry thy daughter, and I will provide for thee an honourable grave; but thou shalt be hanged first.’ ‘My Lord,’ said the Lieutenant, ‘shall I bespeak my grave?’ ‘Thou shalt,’ said the Marquess. ‘Then,’ said the Lieutenant, ‘I will be laid in the vault in Raglan Church between your father and your grandfather; and I pray God I may be hanged before I see you again.’ And so saying he flung out of the roome, leaving my Lord in the merriest veine that ever I saw him in; who, remembering himself, sent him five pieces to beare his charges.
“The Lieutenant being brought to the Generall at Monmouth, the Generall dismissed him of his guard, and sent him to Hereford with an oath at his heeles, that he would hang him if there were no more men in England.
“Then the Lieutenant cried out, ‘This makes for us, sure enough. I do but think how finely I shall lie between the two old earles.’... The particulars hereof being brought to the Marquess, his lordship was not a little perplext between feare of having his new mistresse and loosing his old friend; which he had run himself into between jest and earnest. The time was come that the Marquess was not so much merrier than we heretofore; but we wereas much merrie as he upon the return of this news. But the greatest sport of all was concerning the hopefull Lady Marchioness, who was ever and anon enquiring and asking many questions concerning the Marquess, whom she never saw. What manner of man he was? How old? Whether he went with a staff, or no? What was the reason he kept his chamber so much, and did not come abroad sometimes? What ailments he had? And how long it was since his lady died? With many other necessary questions to be asked by a young woman in her condition.
“Sport enough there was for both the garrisons of Raglan and Hereford. Nevertheless, it stood the Marquess upon to be sollicitous in the business, being sore prest between two strong passions, love and pitty. Me he sends to solicit the businesse, with instructions; whose telling me never so often, ‘that it was no laughing matter,’ could not make me forbear laughing.
“But having taken my leave, his Lordship called me back again, and with a loud and angry voice said to me, ‘Tell the Generall, that if he hang my Lieutenant, I’ll hang the centry for not giving fire upon him when he was bid.’ Whereupon I said unto his Lordship, ‘What doth he care how many you hang?’ ‘God bless us all,’ said the Marquess; ‘if he neither cares who he hangs of the King’s party, nor who other folkes hang; for aught I know he cares not an’ we were all hanged.’
“So taking my second leave of the Marquess, and then my humble leave of the Lady Elizabeth, who fearing nothing more but that I would prove too good a sollicitor for her good, I went to Hereford, and made some sport there; and so brought home the Lieutenant to his wife and daughter, who ever after was called ‘My Lady Marquess.’”
We now proceed to that part of our subject, in which the desperate fortunes of the Monarch are connected with his last visit to Raglan.
After the battle of Naseby, nothing prospered with the King. His army, it was suspected, had not displayed on that day their former valour. Though not disaffected, they were dispirited; the mass of the infantry threw down their arms and cried for quarter; and with Cromwell’s horse thundering in his rear, the King escaped to Leicester, and thence through Bewdley, in Worcestershire, to Hereford. Only five days before this ruinous defeat he had written in a letter to the Queen, that since the rebellion began, “his affairs were never in so fair and hopeful a way.” On the sixth he was a fugitive. But he had still hopes—strange as it must appear—of getting together an army in South Wales.[253]At Hereford, Prince Rupert took leave of the King, and hastened toBristol, that he might put it into a condition to resist the victorious army that was speedily to make its appearance before it; and thence, says Lord Clarendon, “his Majesty went to Abergavenny to meet the Commissioners. As they were for the most part persons of the best quality and the largest fortunes of these counties, so they had manifested great loyalty and affection from the beginning of the war, by sending many good regiments to the army; and with their sons and brothers and nearest kindred—many of whom had lost their lives bravely in the field. They now made as large professions as ever, and seemed to believe that they should be able in a very short time to raise a good army of foot, with which the King might again look upon the enemy, and accordingly agreed what numbers should be levied upon each of the counties.” From hence, says the historian, “his Majesty went for the last time toRaglan Castle, the noble house of the Marquess of Worcester, which was well fortified and garrisoned by him who remained then in it.” There the King “resolved to stay till he saw the effect of the Commissioners’ mighty promises. But in a short time he found that, either by the continued successes of the Parliament armies, the particular information whereof was every day brought to them by intelligence from their friends, or the triumphs of their enemies in Monmouth or Gloucester, there was little probability of their raising an army in those parts, where all men grew less affected, or more frighted: which produced one and the same effect.”
In his progress—for it was more like a “progress” than a retreat—through Monmouthshire to Raglan, the King was greeted with every expression of loyal sympathy by his Welsh subjects. In the “Iter Carolinum,” printed amongst the “Somers’ Tracts,” it is recorded, “that King Charles slept at Tredegar, the seat of Sir William Morgan, in this county, on the seventeenth of July, 1645; and that he arrived at Sir Philip Morgan’s,[254]Ruperra, in Glamorganshire, on the twenty-fifth, and there remained till the twenty-ninth of the same month.” This must have been immediately before his return to Raglan Castle, in August. Entering upon a melancholy progress from house to house, among the staunch royalists of South Wales, he had thus soughtrelief from the gloomy reflections by which his mind was oppressed after the total defeat at Naseby.
At Raglan, however, says the historian, “the King, as on his former visit, passed days and weeks in sports and ceremonies, in hunting and audience-giving;” for every effort was employed by those around him to obliterate all recollections of the past by promises and predictions of a brilliant future. When his Majesty re-entered the gates of Raglan—which was indeed a harbour of refuge in his distress—the loyal Marquess, kneeling down, kissed hisLiege’shand; and then rising up saluted him with this compliment—“Domine! non sum dignus.” To which the King replied—“My Lord, I may very well answer you again:I have not found so great faith, no not in Israel. No man would trust me with so much money as you have done.” To which the Marquess replied—“I hope your Majesty will provea defender of the Faith.”