Chapter 12

Much treasure, it was conjectured, had been thrown into the moat during the siege, while under the apprehension of being given up to plunder; so the people were set to work with axes, shovels, and pickaxes, to drain off the water, and collect the treasure. But nothing valuable being discovered in the moat, they were next set to cut the stanks of the fish-ponds, where they had store of very large carp and other fish. From these reservoirs, during many generations, the family had drawn an abundant supply for the table; and in times when the fasts of the Church were rigorously observed,fish-ponds were indispensable to every large establishment. The artificial oak roof of the great hall, already noticed in the introductory sketch, could not be removed with advantage; it was therefore allowed to remain full twenty years after the siege. But the sheet-lead with which it was covered was found to be a very “convertible material,” and was therefore rolled up, sent to market, and the product paid over to the Parliamentary Exchequer.

Above thirtyvaultsof all sorts of rooms and cellars, and three arched bridges, are yet standing; but the most curious arch of the chapel, and rooms above, with many others, are totally destroyed. Many coins of Queen Elizabeth have been found, but none deserving of preservation from the crucible of the silversmith, to whom they were speedily consigned by the finders.

These dreary “souterrains,” in the present day, are, of course, haunted by goblins, or other beings with lungs not likely to be affected by the damp and mephitic gases, which they are said to exhale. Never was place better adapted for unearthly visitants; and wherever blood has been spilt or treasure concealed, the spirits of vengeance or avarice seize upon the spot as their own exclusive territory. As it appeared to us, however, thegenii lociwere spirits of a very different stamp—beings with whom the painter, the philosopher, and the poet, would choose to make their abode. Not so the cicerone who showed these mysterious caverns to Bloomfield. “Look down there,” said she, pointing to the great cellar; “something very awful; candles wont burn there! Some people says it’s because the damp chokes ’em. For my part, I think it’s the devil himself; and not much fancying to be seen at his work, he blows ’em out. Well, sir, you may smile as you please; but one puff of brimstone’s enough for me. Let’s step into the Fountain Court. All the wine’s gone; so a cellar with only bad spirits in it, is hardly worth notice.”

Passing from the cellar to the dairy, we may observe that during the siege, and for many generations previously, the fine meadows on the banks of the Olwy, in the adjoining parish of Llandenny, were appropriated as the dairy-farm of the Castle.

The Marquess’sLibrarywas considered one of the best selected, and most extensive in Europe; and we cannot doubt that theGalleryof Paintings bore equal and corresponding testimony to the liberality and taste of the noble owner.[276]

The loss sustained by the family in the immediate destruction of the castle and woods, according to the printed statement, was computed at one hundred thousand pounds; besides enormous sums furnished to his Majesty for the raising and equipment of two armies, and the maintenance of a numerous garrison, of which the daily expenses alone must have required a princely revenue. With this evidence of the Marquess’s resources, it is not surprising that he should be described by Clarendon as “the most moneyed man of the kingdom.” The siege was followed by the sequestration and sale of the whole estate, which, by the parliamentary audit of 1646, amounted to twenty thousand pounds per annum, and remained in the hands of Cromwell till the Restoration, a period of fourteen years. All the old timber in the parks adjacent was cut down and sold; the lead was stript from the roof of the great hall, and sold for six thousand pounds; and a quantity of the timber was carried to Bristol, and there used in rebuilding the wooden houses upon the old bridge, which had recently been destroyed by fire. But the loss of the library was in every sense a national loss, for in this, among many rare invaluable manuscripts, were the archives of Gwent, with the earliest records of Welsh literature. “One of these manuscripts,” says the late Mr. Thomas,[277]“was an interesting work by Geraint Bardd Glass y Cadair, an illustrious Welshman, who flourished about the ninth century. He was the first who composed a Welsh grammar, a work that was revised by Einion and Edeyrn, which form and arrangement are now extant; but the original MS. was in the Raglan library at its capitulation.”

In his palmy days, long before he was created Marquess, the good Earl lived in princely state in this Castle. Surrounded by faithful friends, numerous retainers, and a household that, by its daily expenditure, bespoke almost unlimited resources, he enjoyed in age all the happiness to which men look forward as the reward and solace of a virtuous youth; for, though long practised in the offices of Court, he could still relish the sweets of domestic retirement, the humanizing influence of science, and the conversation of pious and learned men. He was a friend of literature, a pattern of religious consistency, an example of loyalty which no reverses could shake; and when at last plunged into the deepest adversity, stript of his property, bent down with years, and suffering from bodily pain, he maintained a degree of mental serenity that softened the remembrance of his wrongs, showed the true foundation of his faith, and enabled him to view every dispensation of good or evil as coming from God, and intended, by weaning his thoughts from this world, to give him nearer and clearer views of heaven. Reduced in four short years from the height of prosperity into the very abyss of adversity—his home desolate, the prospects of his family blasted, his friends hopeless or in prison, himself an inmate of the Tower—it is impossible to withhold our sympathy from a man who, in no circumstances, forgot the true nobility of his nature, and the obligations of hiscreed; but in every trial could exclaim, in the words of his own motto—Mutare vel timere sperno.

“Go, empty joyes,With all your noyse,And leave me here alone,In sweet sad silence to bemoaneYour vaine and fleet delight;Whose danger none can see aright,Whilst your false splendour dims his sight.Go, and insnare,With your false ware,Some other easie wight,And cheat him with your flattering light;Rain on his head a showerOf honours, favour, wealth, and power—Thensnatch it from him in an hour.”[278]

“Go, empty joyes,With all your noyse,And leave me here alone,In sweet sad silence to bemoaneYour vaine and fleet delight;Whose danger none can see aright,Whilst your false splendour dims his sight.

Go, and insnare,With your false ware,Some other easie wight,And cheat him with your flattering light;Rain on his head a showerOf honours, favour, wealth, and power—Thensnatch it from him in an hour.”[278]

On his melancholy departure from these ancestral halls, which he was never more to behold, the venerable Marquess—accompanied by certain members of his family and a few tried friends, among whom was the devoted Bayly—was conducted to London, and placed under the custody of the Black Rod. Expecting to be treated as a declared enemy of Parliament, notwithstanding the terms of capitulation, his lordship was agreeably surprised to find the severity, with which such cases were usually visited, was relaxed in his favour. “Lord bless us,” said he to Dr. Bayly, who never left him, “what a fearful thing was this Black Rod when I heard of it first! It did so run in my mind, that it made an infliction out of mine own imagination. But when I spoke with the man himself, I found him a very civil gentleman; and I saw no black rod! So, methinks, if we would not let these troubles and apprehensions of ours be made worse by our own fears, no rods would be black.” And although—

“The pride of life has vanished,And here I stand alone,Degraded, stript, and banishedFrom all that was mine own;Yet in dreams, when friends surround meWith the loyal and the true,The youthful links that bound me,Seem all riveted anew.When I hear their loyal voices,I half forget my wrongs,And again my heart rejoicesIn our good old loyal songs.Pent up in these dark regions,The only gems I boast,Are myhonour and allegiance—All else of earth is lost.”[279]

When I hear their loyal voices,I half forget my wrongs,And again my heart rejoicesIn our good old loyal songs.Pent up in these dark regions,The only gems I boast,Are myhonour and allegiance—All else of earth is lost.”[279]

But we shall leave the worthy Marquess for a time, to observe what is passing in that dearly beloved, but now desolate mansion, the gates of which were now closed upon him for ever.

The woodcut here introduced represents one of the richly ornamented, but now dilapidated, windows of the front range of the Castle.

Of the settling of some portion of the Marquess of Worcester’s estates upon Cromwell, we take the following particulars from a popular writer of our own times:—“The Commons,” he observes, “now dealing with delinquents, do not forget to reward good servants—to ‘conciliate the grandees,’ as splenetic Walker calls it. For about two years (writing after the conclusion of the war) there has been talk and debate about settling £2,500 a year on Lieutenant-General Cromwell; but difficulties have arisen. First, they tried Basinghouse lands, the Marquis of Winchester’s, whom Cromwell had demolished; but the Marquis’s affairs were in disorder. It was generally found that the Marquis had only a life-rent there—only Abbotson and Itchin in that quarter could be realized. Order thereupon to settle lands of papists and delinquents to the requisite amount wheresoever convenient. To settle especially what lands the Marquis of Worcester had in that county of Southampton; which was done, though still with insufficient result. Then came the army quarrels, and an end of such business. But now, in the Commons’ Journals, March 7th, this is what we read:—‘An ordinance for passing unto Oliver Cromwell, Esquire, Lieutenant-General, certain lands and manors in the counties of Gloucester, Monmouth, and Glamorgan, late the Earl ofWorcester’s, was this day read third time; and, upon the question, passed and ordered to be sent unto the Lords for theirconcurrence.’”Oliverhimself, we shall find, has been dangerously sick; and the following is what Clement Walker reports upon the matter of the grant:—“The sixth of March brought an ordinance to settle two thousand five hundred pounds a year of land out of the Marquis of Worcester’s estate—the old Marquis of Worcester at Raglan—father of the Lord Glamorgan, who, in his turn, became Marquis of Worcester, and wrote the ‘Century of Inventions.’ But £2,500 a year out of the old Marquis’s estate upon Lieutenant-General Cromwell! I have heard some gentlemen, that knew the manor of Chepstow and the other lands, affirm that in reality they are worth £5,000, or even £6,000 a year. You see,” continues he, “though they have not made King Charles a ‘glorious king,’ they have settled a crown revenue upon Oliver, and have madehimas glorious a king as ever John of Leyden was.”[280]

Inaddition to the personal anecdotes, or ‘pithy sayings,’ already introduced, the following are too original and piquant to be overlooked:—“We were talking one day,” says the family chronicler, “of an old drunken fellow, who having used his body to sad disorder in drinking all his lifetime, and at last giving it over, he presently died. The fact being thus brought before him, the Marquis observed, ‘there was nothing to be wondered at in such a termination of the man’s life; for if you take a brand,’ said he, ‘out of the fire that is thoroughly burnt, it will fall to pieces; but if you let it lie there still, it may remain a pretty while before it is turned to ashes.’”

This clearly shows that his Lordship was not a novice in the science of pathology; for, had he made the ‘anatomy of drunkenness’ his particular study, he could not have expressed himself by a figure that more completely illustrates the case. The burnt log may not only last longer, but also preserve its shape, and diffuse light and heat through the whole apartment, while it remains in the fire; but if suddenly removed, and the fire extinguished, it is soon transformed into a heap of black ashes. The comparison applies very forcibly to those in whom the pernicious habit of spirit-drinking has been long a rooted evil. If they suddenly reform, the constitution—to use the same figure—has been so thoroughly carbonized, that, on the artificial temperature being withdrawn, it breaks down like the charred firebrand and is extinguished; but if cautiously and gradually withdrawn, before the charring process has reached the core, it may live to furnish a better light than any that could be expected from it while in the furnace of dissipation. In the Marquess’s time, as already noticed, the habit of drinking was carried to a most fatal excess; and we mayreadily believe that the ‘apophthegm’ here recorded, was the result of personal observation among the troops of his own garrison, who—

“Red-hot with drinking;So full of valour that they smote the airFor breathing in their faces.”

As the preceding anecdote shows the venerable Marquess as a pathologist, so the following exhibits him in the more congenial character of a quaint theologian:—“I was walking one day with his lordship,” says the narrator, “in the private walk about the Great Tower,[281]and there we spied where a bird had made her nest, whom we disturbed from hatching her young ones, and sitting upon her eggs; which act of nature my lord compared to the manner of the creation: ‘For,’ said he, ‘God having made his nest in the world, and brought forth his young at first imperfected, did by his Spiritincubate, and by his wings of prudence spread over them, he gave them life and power; and by his word he brake the shell—et sic pullulavit mundum.’”This method of giving a quaint and solemn turn to the most familiar incidents of life was characteristic of the times, and often introduced into their homilies by the clergy, who made use of the most homely figures to illustrate some of the highest questions in theology. But from the Marquess of Worcester, then at a very advanced age, the effort to extract a moral, or to expound a scriptural text, came very gracefully; and he omits no opportunity, as we perceive, of improving others, by directing their thoughts to those passages of scripture with which his own mind was familiar. It is almost impossible, however, to resist the ludicrous ideas which religious sentiment is made to conjure up when employed by the Parliamentary leaders, and those irreverent applications of scripture which are to be found, not only in their daily conversations, but in their speeches, and even dispatches.Cantwas the fashion of the day; and where a letter was not profusely interlarded with the language and figures of Holy Writ, the author was liable to be suspected of indifference or disaffection to the cause.

“An evil soul, producing holy witness,Is like a villain with a smiling cheek——”“And thus he clothes his naked villanyWith old odd ends stol’n forth of Holy Writ.”

The Marquess’s contempt of hypocrisy and deception is exemplified in another apophthegm:—“A Roman Catholic being sorely pressed to take the oath of supremacy, and being acquainted with another gentleman, who was a Protestant, and so like unto him that you could hardly distinguish them whilst they were together, much less asunder,—thisimago sui—this lifelike

The Keep Tower, from the Moat.Raglan Castle.

The Keep Tower, from the Moat.

Raglan Castle.

resemblance—as if Nature herself had chosen him to be his representative—the right stone being pulled out, and a counterfeit set in the right ring—and what with the likeness of his countenance, and the identity of apparel, he passed for current; which jest my Roman thought so good, that he must needs brag of it to the Marquess. But my lord no way liked it; asking him—‘Would you put another upon doing that which you would not do yourself? What if the devil—you two being so like one another—should mistake you for him? I assure you he would go neare to mar the conceit.’ For, he might have added, though honesty be no Puritan, yet it will do no hurt.”

“Mine honour is mylife; both grow in one;Take honour from me, and my life’s undone.”

In the next passage, the Marquess undertakes the duty of admonishing a party who had come to visit him; and his method of doing so is somewhat amusing. We shall give the lecture, as nearly as we can, in his chaplain’s own words:—“There was a new-married couple,” says he, “presented before the Marquess. The bride was a goodly proper woman, her face well-featured, an excellent eye she had, but she was pitifully disfigured with the smallpox. The Marquess, looking much upon her, and saying nothing to her for a long while, we all knew that silence was in labour for some notable production. At last he advances toward the young bride, and asked her: ‘Gentlewoman, do you know why it is said that God Almighty created man and builded woman?’ The lady, somewhat out of countenance, answered, ‘No, indeed, my lord.’ The Marquess asked her again: ‘Do you know why you women are called housewives?’ ‘I think, my lord,’ said the bride, ‘because good wives should keep at home, and not gad abroad.’ ‘It is a good answer,’ said the Marquess, ‘but not the right one; for women may be bad wives at home, as well as abroad; otherwise they would never scold their husbands out of doors. The answer to my first question is: Woman is not said to bemadeas Adam was, which only signifies plain work; but to bebuilt, which signifies curiosity and contrivance; and, therefore, as to my second question, a woman is called a housewife, because she is a house out of which all the royal families of kings and emperors derive their extract. Neither are you only compared to houses; but unto cities, kingdoms, churches, and commonwealths. But do you know what house you are like?’ ‘No, indeed, my lord,’ answered the bride. ‘Why, then, I’ll tell you,’ resumed the Marquess; ‘when God builded the first woman, he made her his storehouse, wherein he had laid up all the race of mankind, wherewith he replenished the whole earth. But I must tell you, my lady, God Almighty did not make you coaches nor waggons, that you should be always gadding about.’ Whereat the bridegroom made answer: ‘My lord, I thank you forthis; I hope my wife will remember it.’ ‘My lord,’ said the young bride, ‘you will read such a lecture to my husband, that he will never let me go abroad.’ ‘Oh no, my lady,’ said the Marquess, ‘he must not debar you of that liberty, provided you never go abroad but when you go out like the snaile; who seldom stirs abroad but whilst that blessing, the dew of heaven, is upon the earth, that she may gather benefit; and by her greatest care, and equal management, still carries her house upon her back.’ ‘Oh, my lord,’ said she, ‘if I should goe abroad like the snaile, I should carry not only a house upon my back, but horns upon my forehead!’ ‘No, lady,’ said the Marquess; ‘though she pockes at you, yet they are not horns; the snaile can soon draw them in if you touch them, which no horned creature can perform; but she carries them in her head to teach you what you should provide, and bear in mind against you go to hay-making.’

“But the Marquess fearing he had a little displeased the young couple, he thought to make amends by the following, though somewhat equivocal, discourse:—‘Sir,’ said he to the bridegroom, ‘you know I have compared your wife unto a building, and I much commend your choice, for a goodly house should not be chosen for the smoothness or whiteness of the wall—for such a one may be but a dairy-house or a milk-house; nor according to the colours or paintings of the outside—for such a one may be but a tavern or an alehouse; but if I see a house that is lofty and stately built, and hath fair windows, though the outside be but rough-cast, yet I am sure there are goodly rooms therein.’

“And so,” adds Bayly, “both parties were well pleased.” For what the Marquess meant to express by this string of similes was, that although the lady was much disfigured by the smallpox, yet her fine expressive eyes, intellectual forehead, noble carriage, and cultivated mind, amply atoned for accidental disfigurement; and left a balance in her favour which no outward appearance could disparage or conceal.

Theseanecdotesof an octogenarian, however unsuited to modern ideas, and of rather doubtful merit on the score of compliment, are characteristic of times when the court-jester was still thought a necessary appendage to a great household; and when riddle and allegory were the daily vehicles of political wit and private satire, as well as the legitimate promoters of loyalty, mirth, and good-fellowship. That they were considered by Dr. Bayly himself—a grave and learned man—as reflecting honour upon the Marquess who uttered them, and creditable to his own taste and industry in transmitting them to posterity, is a proof that, agreeably to the taste of the age, they were fully entitled to the distinction of ‘apophthegms.’

Here follows another, in a more serious and figurative sense, to whichJuxon himself would not have objected, even from the pulpit:—“We were talking upon one occasion of Christ’s miracles, more particularly of his turning water into wine, and of the five loaves and two fishes. ‘Truly,’ said the Marquess, ‘these miracles He works amongst us every day; but they are so ordinary, or familiar, that we take no notice of them. God sends rain upon the earth; this water gets up into the vine, and the sappe of the vine-tree God turneth into wine. And as few graines of corne as will makefive loavesbeing covered in the earth, will multiply and encrease to such advantage as will feed five thousand with bread; andtwo fisheswill bring forth so many fishes as will suffice so many mouths.’”It was by these serious and intelligible, as well as original, remarks upon subjects accidentally brought out in conversation, that the Marquess sought to impress upon all around him those religious sentiments and convictions which he had himself imbibed by diligent study of the Scriptures; the benefit of which he daily acknowledged, when overtaken by the accumulated evils of age and almost unparalleled adversity.

“Such a house broke—So noble a master fallen! All gone—And not one friend to take his fortune by the arm!”

We now turn to the faithful friend who has recorded these anecdotes of his illustrious patron; who attended him during the whole progress of the siege, and, after the closing scene at Raglan, accompanied him to London, soothed him under the new series of afflictions to which he was there exposed, and never left him until he saw the Master whom he loved and honoured consigned to his final resting-place in the Beaufort Chapel at Windsor. This companion, friend, and counsellor, was Dr. Bayly; and, although our notice must be brief, it is a grateful task to commemorate the virtues of a man, whose name has almost passed into oblivion; but whose loyal devotion, genius, talent, and misfortune, justly entitle him to a place in the same page that records the merits and sufferings of Henry, first Marquess of Worcester.

Dr. Thomas Baylywas the fourth and youngest son of Dr. Lewis Bayly, Bishop of Bangor. After finishing his curriculum at the University of Cambridge, and receiving the degree of Bachelor of Arts in 1638, he was presented by KingCharlesto the subdeanery of Wells. In the troubles that continued to distract the nation, he took an active and unremitting interest; and having retired with other loyalists to Oxford in 1644, he was there created Doctor of Divinity. Previously to the battle of Naseby, he had accepted Lord Worcester’s appointment as chaplain to the household; and, as we have seen in the preceding account, acted in several instances as confidential adviserbetween the King and the Marquess. He was present during the whole course of the siege of Raglan, more as a soldier than a chaplain, and took his full share of the perils and responsibilities in which the officers of the garrison were then involved.

When terms of capitulation were finally tendered by General Fairfax, and accepted by the Marquess, Dr. Bayly was employed to draw up the articles upon which the garrison was to be disbanded: and when the castle was delivered up to the besiegers, he accompanied the Marquess to London, attended him during his imprisonment as a friend and servant, consoled him as a minister of religion, vindicated his character, advocated his rights, and, when the final hour arrived, he performed over his grave the last sad offices of religion and humanity.

After this event, Dr. Bayly repaired to the Continent, where he continued to reside, chiefly in France, until the “martyrdom of King Charles,” when he returned to England, and published the work already mentioned, entitled, “Certamen Religiosum; or, a Conference between King Charles I. and Henry, late Marquess of Worcester, concerning Religion, in Raglan Castle, anno 1646.” This conference, however, was believed by many to whom he stood opposed, to have no real foundation in truth; and to be merely sent forth as a prelude to his declaring himself a convert to the Roman Catholic faith; or, in the original words, to his “becoming a Papist.”

In the course of the same year he published another work, entitled, “The Royal Charter granted unto Kings by God himself,” &c.; to which is added, “A Treatise,” wherein is proved that Episcopacy isjure divino. By these writings he incurred the heavy displeasure of the Government—to which all such topics were obnoxious—and the author was committed to Newgate, where he languished for some time. But at length, a favourable opportunity having been presented, he made his escape into Holland, where he carried his religious views into immediate practice, and became a zealous Roman Catholic.

Previous to this date, and during his confinement in Newgate, he wrote a piece, entitled, “Herba Parietis; or, theWallflower, as it grows out of the stone chamber belonging to the metropolitan prison; being an historie which is partly true, partly romantic, morally divine; whereby a marriage between Reality and Fancy is solemnized by Divinity.”[282]

Shortly after this publication, he quitted Holland, and took up his residence at Douay in France, where he sent forth another book, with the title of “The End to Controversy between the Roman Catholic and Protestant Religions, justified by all the several manner of ways whereby all kinds of controversies,of what nature soever, are usually or can possibly be determined.”[283]This was followed by “Dr. Bayly’sChallenge,” the last of his published works; after which he proceeded to Italy, where he spent the residue of his days, and died, as his biographers conclude, in poverty and distress. It is more likely, however, that, after having, by his controversial talents, rendered some service to the church of his adoption, he retired into a monastery, and there ended his chequered pilgrimage in exercises of devotion. This, however, is matter of conjecture, for he is said by Dodd to have died in the family of Cardinal Ottoboni; while Dr. Trevor, Fellow of Merton College, who travelled in Italy in 1659, reports that he died in a public hospital, and that he had seen his grave. His fate, however, like that of many others—driven into involuntary exile by similar causes—is involved in a mystery which no recent attempt has been made to elucidate.Requiescat in pace.

To the books or pamphlets above named, Dr. Bayly received various replies, which showed that, by their spirit and execution, they had excited no little attention among the able and fierce controversialists of that day. Among those who took the field against him were Christopher Cartwright, L’Estrange, Robert Sanderson, Peter Heylin, and others.

A “Life of Fisher, Bishop of Rochester,” is also ascribed to the pen of Dr. Bayly; but his title to that work is not fully substantiated. His Dedication of “Worcester’sApophthegms,” to the second Marquess, author of “A Century of Inventions,” is manly and elegant. The conclusion is in these words:—“I layd your noble father in his grave with mine own hands; and I could not let a memorial of him lye buried under my own manuscript, but thought it a duty belonging to his fame, and your own merit, to dedicate this book unto your lordship, heir to all, but apparently to nothing but his virtues and this memorial of them.”

In his Epistle to the Reader, he enters upon a lively vindication of the genuineness of his “Certamen; or, Discourse Concerning Religion;” the veracity of which had been bitterly impugned by his enemies; and states that he published it in vindication of the King’s constant affection to theProtestantreligion. There is considerable spirit in the preface:—“Some,” he says, “will not admit of that controversie otherwise than as a parable: First, because they were there—that is, at Raglan Castle—and heard no such thing; Secondly, because they believed not theMarquessof Worcester to be so able a man; as I hear it hath been said by some of his Majesty’s field chaplains, who envying that a loyal pen should wagge, where they can be contented to sew pillowes under the elbowes, to bead cushions over the heads of the people,[284]andpreach such wholesome and sound doctrine of mortification, sanctification, justification, and good life, that they thought they might safely get up into any pulpit, not caring what bottom it had, nor what canopie was over head. Not much unlike the man who went to preach after [upon] the sureness of his foundation, when his house was all on fire. These men will tell you that this was no real thing; because they were there—atRaglan—all the while; whilst, in fact, they were not there at all except atmeales; and when I tell you that they were the doctours, that were better at smelling a good dinner than a disputation, I have as good as told you their names. I expected truly better reason from those doctours, than from the knight that said, ‘He was sure there should be no such thing at Raglan, for his boy Tom was there all the time!’

“But you will say,” he continues, “you do not believe there was any such private discourse. Chuse then; who cares? Let him believe that will; it was writ for the satisfaction of Christians—not of Infidels. But it may be that ‘mendax Fama’ means to requite me for the wrong she did my father, who writ a good book;[285]and some would not believe it to be his; and now that I have set out a book none of mine own, she will have it to bemine. I thank her kindly; but I had rather be without her praises, than to be thought such an ingenious lyar.”

The suspicion that Bayly was the inventor, and not reporter, of the “Certamen Religiosum,” is not supported by any testimony to which we can attach implicit reliance; for those who charged him with the deception, were of the party to whom he was politically as well as religiously opposed. That conversations of the kind actually occurred between the King and the Marquess, can hardly be doubted; but as Bayly, in the midst of a garrison, could not be so cool and accurate as a modern reporter for the press, we may fancy that he clothed the arguments, sent forth in the “Certamen,” in his own language; and perhaps insensibly coloured them with his own sentiments.

It has been farther said of him, that, besides taking part in the defence ofRaglan, he fought, on some occasion of his subsequent and chequered career, as a common soldier. This is by no means unlikely; for he was of an active and adventurous spirit; never reluctant to take up arms in a good cause; and like some other ecclesiastics of his day, as well known in the “tented field” as in the pulpit.

In his “Book of Apophthegms,”[286]he mentions the fact of his having savedLord Worcester from the enemy, by giving him timely notice of their approach, when he found him wandering on the Welsh mountains; and, recording this incident as the occasion and origin of his acquaintance with the Marquess, he says: “From that time forward, until I laid him in his grave in Windsor Castle, I never parted from him.” Such enthusiastic attachment—disinterested as, under all the peculiar circumstances of the case, it must have been—does infinite credit to the memory of Bayly; for it generally happens that fallen greatness, like court favourites, has no real friends.—We now return to the closing scene of the master whom he had served with so much constancy, and whom it was literally his misfortune to survive; for after his obsequies at Windsor, Bayly was left a friendless wanderer, denounced at home, received with suspicion abroad, and indebted to charity for bread and—a grave.

Reduced, as we have seen, to the humiliating condition of a prisoner, the Marquess of Worcester did not long require the vigilance of the Black Rod. From the day that Raglan was delivered up to General Fairfax, his health, which during the siege had suffered from great mental anxiety, rapidly declined under the absence of all that reconciles worldly men to the evils of life. But, armed with that Christian philosophy which is the only panacea for the outrages of fortune, he preserved the inward calm of a resigned and tranquil spirit; and, looking forward to another and a happier existence, he regarded passing events, like his own bodily infirmities, as visitations from an unseen Power, who, through a rugged and stormy path, was conducting his servant into a new region of sunshine and peace. At his death, which took place in December, all that descended to his family, as unconvertible to Parliamentary uses, were the example he had set before them of unshaken loyalty, well-grounded faith, and a patient endurance of evils which the practice of such hereditary virtues might incur. By his wife, whom he long survived, he had issue nine sons and four daughters: namely, Lord Herbert, Earl of Glamorgan, who succeeded to the honours; Lord John, who married a daughter of Thomas, Lord Arundel of Wardour; and Lord Charles, who, during the siege of Raglan, acted as second in command under his father, and after signalizing himself in the royal service, devoted himself to the church, and died, as already observed, in exile at Cambray. These are the only members of the family that require to be noticed in this place.

Edward, the second Marquess, maintained the same spirit of loyalty which had actuated his father through life. The services which he had hitherto, as Lord Herbert, rendered to the royal cause, were followed by others which won for him the entire confidence of his Sovereign, by whom he was constituted Lord Lieutenant of North Wales, and invested with the highest authority ever delegated by a king to his subject. To this remarkable fact allusion has beenalready made;[287]but in this place, where it may be more properly introduced, we shall quote the original at full length. In the preceding history, as we have seen, the King addressed him in letters patent from Oxford, by the title of Earl of Glamorgan, Baron Beaufort of Caldecot; and to complete the honours showered upon him, his Majesty invested him, in 1644, with the following commission:—

“Charles, by the grace of God, King of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, &c., to our right trusty and right well-beloved cousin Edward SomersetaliasPlantagenet, Lord Herbert, Baron Beaufort of Caldicote, Grosmond, Chepstow, Raglan, and Gower, Earl of Glamorgan, son and heir apparent of our entirely beloved cousin, Henry, Earl and Marquess of Worcester, greeting.

“Having had good and long experience of your prowess, prudence, and fidelity, do make choice, and by these nominate and appoint you our, &c., to be our generalissimo of three armies, English, Irish, and Foreign, and admiral of a fleet at sea, with power to recommend your Lieut.-General for our approbation; leaving all other officers to your own election and denomination, and accordingly to receive their commission from you, willing and commanding them, and every of them, you to obey as their general, and you to receive immediate orders from ourself only. And lest, through distance of place, we may be misinformed, we will and commend you to reply unto us, if any of our orders should thwart or hinder any of your designs for our service. And there being necessary great sums of money to the carrying on so chargeable an employment, which we have not to furnish you withal, we do by these empower you to contract with any of our loving subjects of England, Ireland, and dominion of Wales, for wardships, customs, woods, or any our rights and prerogatives; we by these obliging ourselves, our heirs, and successors, to confirm and make good the same accordingly. And for persons of generosity, for whom titles of honour are most desirable, we have entrusted you with several patents under ourGreat Sealof England, from a Marquis to a Baronet, which we give you full power and authority to date and dispose of, without knowing our further pleasure. So great is our trust and confidence in you, as that, whatsoever you do contract for or promise,Wewill make good the same accordingly, from the date of this our commission forwards; which, for the better satisfaction, We give you leave to give them, or any of them, copies thereof, attested under your hand and seal of arms. And for your own encouragement, and in token of our gratitude, we give and allow you henceforward such fees, titles, preheminences, and privileges, as do and may belong to your place and command above-mentioned; with promise of our dear daughterElizabethto your son Plantagenet in marriage, with three hundred thousand pounds in dower or portion; most part whereof we acknowledge spent or disburst by your Father[288]and you in our service; and the title ofDukeof Somerset to you and your heirs male for ever; and from henceforward to give theGarterto your arms, and at your pleasure to put on theGeorgeand blue ribbon. And for your greater honour, and in testimony of our reality, we have with our own hand affixed our great seal of England unto these our commission and letters, making them patents.“Witnessourself at Oxford, the first day of April, in the twentieth year of our reign, and the year of ourLordone thousand six hundred and forty-four.“Charles.”

“Witnessourself at Oxford, the first day of April, in the twentieth year of our reign, and the year of ourLordone thousand six hundred and forty-four.

“Charles.”

The result of this commission, full of promises, offers a striking instance of the uncertainty of “the best laid schemes” of men. Lord Glamorgan’s eldest son married; but no matrimonial alliance took place between the Royal family and his. Nor is it mentioned that any use was made of his unprecedented power to make peers; and what is singular enough, the title of Glamorgan, granted to Lord Herbert himself, was disputed, on account of some informality, at the Restoration of Charles II., and surrendered by him when Marquess of Worcester. He seems, indeed, to have regarded neither his private interest nor his public reputation in comparison with those of his Royal master. He was sent to Ireland, as already noticed, with a secret commission to negotiate with the Roman Catholics; and upon its discovery, and being disowned by Charles, he took all the fault on himself, to the imminent hazard of his own life. At the Restoration he met with no adequate reward for his devoted loyalty. Charles the Second, probably, had not all the power that was supposed, as he certainly had not all the inclination that was expected, to reward the adherents of his family.

Horace Walpole, in his “Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors,” gives a lively, but a very careless and unfair, account of this Marquess of Worcester. He ridicules his “Century of Inventions;” but, in truth, Lord Orford’s opinion will not go far on scientific subjects. An opinion, very different from that of the critic-peer, will be formed on consulting the new edition of the “Century of Inventions,” with historical and explanatory notes, published in 1835, by Mr. Charles F. Partington.

The title the Marquess gives the original work is, “A Century of the Names and Scantlings of such Inventions, as at present I can call to mind to have tried and perfected, which (my former notes being lost) I have, at the instance of a powerful friend, endeavoured now, in the year 1655, to set these down in such a way, as may sufficiently instruct me to put any of them in practice.”

“Artis et naturæ proles.”

He dedicates it to the King in language of unabated loyalty; and in a second address impressively recommends his discoveries to the attention of both Houses of Parliament. In the sixth of these “Inventions,” Mr. Partington recognises an improved construction of the telegraph, as it was used before the electric telegraph came into use.

In VIII. IX. and X. various engines of war are hinted, which have since been perfected by Congreve and others. The reader who is curious in such subjects, will be well repaid by a perusal of Mr. Partington’s book. We can only find room for those inventions which foreshadow the steam-engine.

“XC. An engine so contrived that, working theprimum mobileforward or backward, upward or downward, circularly or cornerwise, to and fro, straight, upright or downright, yet the pretended operation continueth and advanceth; none of the motions above-mentioned hindering, much less stopping the other; but unanimously and with harmony agreeing, they all augment and contribute strength unto the intended work and operation; and, therefore, I call this asemi-omnipotent engine, and do intend that a model thereof be buried with me.

“XCIX. How to make one pound weight raise an hundred as high as one pound falleth; and yet the hundred pounds weight descending doth what nothing less than one hundred pounds can effect.

“LXVIII. An admirable and most forcible way to drive up water by fire, not by drawing and sucking it upwards, for that must be, as the philosopher calleth it,infra spheram activitatis, which is had at such a distance; but this way hath no bounder, if the vessels be strong enough; for I have taken a piece of a whole cannon, whereof the end was burst, and filled it three quarters full, stopping and screwing up the broken end, as also the touchhole; and making a constant fire under it, within twenty-fours it burst, and made a great crack. So that having found a way to make my vessels, so that they are strengthened by the force within them, the one to fill after the other, have seen the water run like a constant fountain stream forty feet high; one vessel of water, rarefied by fire, driveth up forty of cold water; and a man that tends the work is but to turn two cocks, that one vessel of water being consumed, another begins to force and refill with cold water, and so successively, the fire being tended andkept constant, which the selfsame person may likewise abundantly perform in the interim between the necessity of turning the said cocks.

“C. Upon so potent a help as these two last-mentioned inventions, a waterwork is, by many years’ experience and labour, so advantageously by me contrived, that a child’s force bringeth up, an hundred feet high, an incredible quantity of water, even two feet diameter. And I may boldly call it the most stupendous work in the whole world! Not only, with little charge, to drain all sorts of mines, and furnish cities with water, though never so high seated, as well to keep them sweet, running through several streets, and so performing the work of scavengers, as well as furnishing the inhabitants with sufficient water for their private occasions; but likewise supplying the rivers with sufficient to maintain and make navigable from town to town, and for the bettering of lands all the way it runs; with many more advantageous and yet greater effects of profit, admiration, and consequence. So that, deservedly, I deem this invention to crown my labours, to reward my expenses, and make my thoughts acquiesce in the way of farther inventions. This making up the whole century, and preventing any farther trouble to the reader for the present, meaning to leave to posterity a book, wherein, under each of these heads, the means to put in execution and visible trial all and every of these inventions, with the shape and form of all things belonging to them, shall be printed by brass plates.” And he devoutly concludes:—“In bonum publicum, et ad majoremDeigloriam.”

On these Mr. Partington has the following note:—“The three last inventions may justly be considered as the most important of the whole ‘Century;’ and when united with the 68th article, they appear to suggest nearly all the data essential for the construction of a modern steam-engine. The noble author has furnished us with what he calls a definition of this engine; and although it is written in the same vague and empirical style which characterises a large portion of his ‘Inventions,’ it may yet be considered as affording additional proofs of the above important fact.”

The Marquess’s “Definition” is exceedingly rare, as the only copy known to be extant is preserved in the British Museum. It is printed on a single sheet, without date, and appears to have been written for the purpose of procuring subscriptions in aid of a water company, then about to be established:—

“A stupendous, or a water-commanding engine, boundless for height or quantity, requiring no external nor even additional help or force, to be set or continued in motion, but what intrinsically is afforded from its own operation, nor yet the twentieth part thereof. And the engine consisteth of the following particulars:—

“A perfect counterpoise, for what quantity soever of water.

“A perfect countervail, for what height soever it is to be brought unto.

“Aprimum mobile, commanding both height and quantity, regulator-wise.

“A vicegerent, or countervail, supplying the place, and performing the full force of man, wind, beast, or mill.

“A helm, or stern, with bit and reins, wherewith any child may guide, order, and control the whole operation.

“A particular magazine for water, according to the intended quantity or height of water.

“An aqueduct, capable of any intended quantity or height of water.

“A place for the original fountain, or river, to run into, and naturally, of its own accord, incorporate itself with the rising water, and at the very bottom of the aqueduct, though never so big or high.

“ByDivine Providenceand heavenly inspiration, this is my stupendous water-commanding engine, boundless for height and quantity.

“Whosoever is master of weight, is master of force; whosoever is master of water, is master of both; and, consequently, to him all forcible actions and achievements are easy.”

“It is said,” continues our authority in another place, “that the Marquess, while confined in the Tower of London, was preparing some food in his apartment, (a singularly good result from a marquess having been obliged to be his own cook,) and the cover of the vessel having been closely fitted, was, by the expansion of the steam, suddenly forced off and driven up the chimney. This circumstance attracting his attention, led him to a train of thought, which terminated in the completion of his ‘water-commandingengine.’”

Thus, we think, posterity has something more to thank the noble owner of Raglan for, than deeds of arms, or the defence of castles. His great castle, however, was ere this time in ruins, and furnishing another instance of the folly with which the conquerors at that period destroyed the noble buildings which had belonged to their enemies the Royalists; as if it had not been enough, and more wise and provident, to have kept them in their own possession, and converted them to republican uses.

The Marquesssurvived the publication of his “Century” only about two years. He died in retirement, near London, on the 3d of April, 1667, and was buried in the vault of Raglan Church, on the 19th of the same month, near his grandfather, Edward, Earl of Worcester.[289]

After theRestoration, as already noticed, a committee was appointed by the House of Lords,[290]to take the patent above quoted into serious consideration. The consequence was, that in a very few days thereafter it reported that the Marquess was willing, without further question, to deliver it up to his Majesty; and accordingly, on the third of September following, the said patent, “granted,” as it was alleged, “in prejudice to the Peers,” was formally surrendered to the Sovereign, as the only fountain of national honours.

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