Part 24
Three years after this event, the Duke took his seat in the House of Lords; but did not appear at court until after the change of ministers in 1710, when he frankly told her Majesty that he could “then, and only then, call her Queen of England.”
After being installed in various high offices, and while promising a long and distinguished career in the service of his country, he was prematurely cut off in the thirty-first year of his age, and buried at Badminton, where a monument records his titles, character, and public services.
Badminton , which we have just named, is the principal seat of the Beaufort family, and comprises one of the finest parks in England. Badminton Church, which contains the monuments above-named, was rebuilt at the expense of the late Duke of Beaufort in 1785, after a plan by Evans. It stands within the Ducal Park; and, besides various other specimens of art, represents the arms of Somerset--“foy pour devoir”--faith for duty--worked in mosaic in the pavement of the chancel. On the destruction of
Raglan Castle , as already described in these pages, was laid the foundation of Badminton Park, where the household gods of the family were formally enshrined, and insured the possession of a more peaceful and propitious home.
“Here, in forgetfulness of many woes, The loyal Founder sought and found repose; Here, in sweet landscapes to the Muse endeared, Soothed by Religion, and by Science cheered; Tasted the sweets that rarely can be known, Save when we make the public weal our own.”
This beautiful seat--long prior to the time in question--had been the hereditary demesne of the Botelers , whose names appear in the earliest period of British history. The house is built in the Palladian style of architecture--a style for which the first Duke of Beaufort had acquired a taste at Vicenza; and when the time had arrived that a house, worthy of his illustrious ancestors, should be erected in this county, a decided preference was given to the Italian model. The principal front is of great length, having in its centre division a composite colonnade, surmounted by an attic, on which is sculptured the family arms. The wings of the mansion, extending considerably on each side, are terminated by Tuscan arches, leading to the offices and stables. Over each extremity of the centre is a cupola. The interior decorations of this palace are splendid, but still in good keeping, and evincing due regard to the classical taste in which the building itself originated.
The great dining or banquet hall is tastefully ornamented by wood carvings, from the designs of the celebrated Gibbons--all of elaborate execution, and presenting some of the finest specimens ever produced by that artist. The picture gallery--which the stranger will admire for its fine proportions and classical simplicity--presents a series of family portraits, with which, individually, are associated many pleasing, and some painful events and circumstances of the national history--
“Of lofty stem! the beautiful, the bold-- Names that still blazon the historic page! Faintly, yet brightly, hath the painter told Their worth and virtues to a latter age-- ‘In faith inflexible;’ in beauty’s charms Triumphant; and invincible in arms.”
The park , by which the mansion is encircled, is of great extent--more than nine miles in circumference; and although the natural scenery is comparatively tame, the walks and drives are exceedingly picturesque; and, to the practised eye of strangers, present many points of view which will linger on the memory long after other and more romantic scenes are forgotten.
“Here waving woods--a mass of living green-- With varied shade diversify the scene; Flowers of all hues perfume the haunted dell, Where streams descend, and bubbling fountains dwell; Where busts of heroes glimmer through the trees, And Nature’s music floats upon the breeze-- Such, as in olden time, was heard to wake The slumbering echoes of the Larian lake; Or soothed, with dulcet tones, the opal sea, That clasps thy beauteous shore--Parthenopè! Yet brighter rises--fairer sets the sun Upon _thy_ classic shades--fair Badminton .”
With these particulars, which bring down the family history to comparatively modern times, we close this portion of the subject, and return to the scene of our illustrations--
Raglan Castle. --By those unacquainted with the subject, it has been often regretted that, when prosperity had again visited the family of Worcester, no effort was ever made to restore this castle to something of its original splendour. But the obstacles that opposed such a patriotic design were innumerable; and although the apartments at vast expense might have been rendered habitable, yet the parks, and the timber--the growth of centuries--having all been cut down and swept away in the Revolution, and nothing left but a comparatively bleak and uncultivated waste, the grand ornament of the manor was not to be replaced by the hand of art. Turrets might again multiply along the battlements, and splendid courts be rescued from the cumbrous ruins that had long hid and disfigured them; but trees must be raised by a slower process, and he who should replant the wasted demesne must do so, not for himself, but for the benefit of future generations.
But, in addition to other obstacles that need not here be noticed, the habits and manner of society had become so thoroughly changed after the Restoration, that a feudal stronghold was no longer indispensable for the security and comfort of great families. The military chief had now thrown aside his cumbrous mail, and entered into the every-day duties of civil life; and by improved intercourse with his fellow-men--confidence in the stability of government--a taste for agriculture, and love of national sports and pastimes, he felt his own happiness advanced by the new facilities of promoting that of the people around him. He found that to sleep soundly, required the aid of neither drawbridge nor portcullis. Public order and confidence once restored, domestic feuds, which had so long kept men strangers to one another--except in some field of conflict--were succeeded by family alliances, which united them by new ties of friendship and affection; and instead of mutual distrust and mutual defiance, the nobles of the land were gradually weaned back from an immoderate love of war to the arts of peace, and the practical illustration of loyalty and patriotism. The feudal castle, built chiefly for defence, was now of course a structure of which every one could perceive the comfortless inconvenience. A host of retainers was no longer required either for the safety or the baronial state of the mansion; a new form of society required new and more simple forms of accommodation; and the rural mansion, with its waving woods, gardens, orchards, farm-like offices, well-stocked preserves, and richly variegated lawns, succeeded those stern fortifications within which former generations had maintained their haughty independence--but which, in reality, was little better than “the freedom of a state prisoner”--
“For still the ramparts, tall and grim, Were _barriers_ ’twixt the world and him!”
Raglan Castle, however--even while occupied as a feudal residence--possessed many advantages over its contemporaries. Its spacious courts, lofty halls, numerous suites of chambers, extensive battlements, ancient gardens, shady walks, and variegated prospects, were luxuries to which few, if any, of our domestic fortalices could lay claim. Within the walls of the castle, the riches of art, pictorial and sculptured, were scattered with taste and liberality on every object that could please the eye or amuse the fancy; while the skill and science illustrated in their arrangement improved the mind, and imparted a classic grace and colouring to the whole structure. Of its luxuries in this respect--in its library, its Gallery of paintings and sculpture--the description of an old poet may be quoted as not inapplicable to the scene presented by Raglan, at the commencement of the seventeenth century:--
“For the rich spoil of all the continents, The boast of art and nature, there was brought; Corinthian brass, Egyptian monuments, With hieroglyphic sculptures all inwrought; And Parian marbles, by Greek artists taught To counterfeit the forms of heroes old, And set before the eye of sober thought Lycurgus, Homer, and Alcides bold-- All these and many more that may not here be told.”
But of all the artificial embellishments for which Raglan Castle was famed, its Water-works --on a most ingenious and expensive scale--are allowed to have formed a principal feature; and these Lord Herbert and the first Marquess appear to have brought to a degree of perfection previously unknown in this country. In their day--long before the name of Cromwell had inspired sentiments of either respect or alarm--Raglan Castle was probably as much distinguished in this respect amongst baronial mansions, as the “Palace of the Peak” among the aristocratic mansions of our own times. During the numerous fêtes celebrated within its gates in honour of the King’s visit, these water-works came in for a large share of royal admiration; and who can doubt that the rushing fountains of Raglan had, perhaps, as soothing an influence upon the distracted mind of the first Charles , as those of Tivoli are said to have had on that of Mecænas, whom the distracting cares of state, as tradition reports, had rendered sad and sleepless? Fresh from the field of Naseby, the sound of welcome that met King Charles at the gate of Raglan, must have been peculiarly grateful to _his_ ear, on which the shouts of loyalty were destined never to fall again with so much truth and fervour. As the equestrian group in the Fountain Court threw up its snowy column during the night, the spray may have reached the very casement of the King’s chamber, and invited that repose which unparalleled reverses had scared from his pillow. If, under the ordinary circumstances of royalty, “uneasy lies the head that wears a crown,” his must indeed have been “unrest,” from whose head the crown was so surely but insensibly falling.--These, however, are sentimental conjectures, with which the topographer has little or nothing to do; we turn, therefore, to the subject in question, the water-works of Raglan, and the hero of the scene, the first Marquess, of whom local history reports the following
Anecdote. --At the beginning of the Long Parliament, we are told, certain rustics of the neighbourhood, availing themselves of the prejudices excited against Lord Worcester on account of his creed, presented themselves one morning at the gate of Raglan, and in the name of Parliament demanded possession of the household arms. Apprised of their design, the noble owner met them at the White Gate; and after hearing them repeat the demand for arms, put the question, “Whether, seeing that they had come to disarm him and his servants, they intended also to follow up that act of violence by robbing him of his money and goods?” “No,” said the intruders; “we want your arms, and that only because you are publicly denounced as a recusant!” “Nay,” said his lordship; “I am indeed a peer of the realm, but I am no convicted recusant; and therefore the law cannot in reason take notice of any such thing, much less sanction this violent proceeding.”
Thus checked in their first attempt, the Marquess proceeded to warn them of the danger they had incurred by pressing an unlawful demand; and threatening them with serious consequences, they were well pleased to forego the prime object of their visit, and turning round prepared to retire without further parley. The Marquess, however, seeing their contrition, invited them to enter the gate of the castle, and amuse themselves, in a peaceable way, with a sight of whatever it contained. His design, however, was to punish them, in a manner they little expected, for the unnecessary alarm they had occasioned to the household.
Condescending to be his own cicerone in the case, he conducted the rustic band from one place to another, until--greatly wondering at everything they saw--they had traversed nearly the whole premises. At last, just when they had come to that part of the Castle Moat, over which a lofty bridge communicated with the Keep,[291] he invited them to pause, and examine the scene at leisure.
“Now, at this point,” says Bayly, “Lord Herbert had lately contrived certain water-works, which, when the several engines and wheels were set agoing, vast quantities of water through the hollow conveyances were to be let down from the top of the high tower.” All being ready for action, a signal from the Marquess brought down through these a deluge of cataracts, which, by their roaring, hissing, and foaming through the hollow tubes, produced such a hideous and deafening noise, that every echo from the buildings around was roused into imitation; while the visitors themselves, suddenly enveloped in a magic circle of roaring cataracts, knew not what to think, nor which way to turn. Describing the effect in his own graphic style, the Chaplain writes:--
“Such was the roaring, as if the mouth of hell had been thrown wide open, and all the devils had been conjured up, that the poor silly men stood so amazed, as if they had been half dead; and yet they saw nothing!”
At last, as the plot was contrived, up comes a man in great haste and affected trepidation; and staring wildly at the half-petrified rustics, cried out as he passed them--“Look to yourselves, my masters; look to yourselves; for, by’r Lady, the lions are all broke loose!” Hereupon the rustic “arms-searchers” fell into such a dancing fit of ague, that, in their attempts to escape the lions’ jaws, they tumbled so over one another as they scampered down stairs, that it was feared one half of them had broken their necks. Nor did they once look behind them, until they found themselves a full mile beyond the gates of the castle.
By this _ruse_, the Marquess completely succeeded in warding off any second party disposed to make a similar experiment. The demand for arms was not repeated; the roar of Worcester’s “lions” kept all intruders at bay; and the recent adventure, which had lost nothing by telling, did more for a time to insure the tranquillity of Raglan Castle, than could have been accomplished by a regiment of cavalry.
View from the Keep. --The Donjon Tower, where the above adventure occurred--and which has been already described in these pages--commands a magnificent view over the surrounding country, particularly to the south-west, where the landscape--broken into verdant masses of vegetation--gradually swells into a mountain range, which limits the view, and depicts its own bold outline on the distant horizon. In describing this view, we shall be as particular as our limits will permit; for it is one of the finest in the county. The ascent, as usual in such buildings, is by a tourniquet staircase, which opens at each of the five different stories into the ancient, and, in the present case, lofty apartments; to which, in cases of imminent danger, the family could retreat as to an inviolable sanctuary. But this was an extremity to which--so far as we are informed--none of the Worcester family were ever compelled to resort. So that there are no dramatic incidents associated with the tower, upon which a romantic story of siege and storm might be founded.
Of this view, however, all visitors of taste in landscape-painting speak in terms of admiration; and, having made the experiment on a beautiful evening in September, we are bound, from the enjoyment it afforded us, to recommend to all visitors a tour of the battlements, closing with a view from the top of the Keep. In this view, as shown in the accompanying engraving, is comprehended a wide panorama, enriched and embellished with all the characteristic features of English landscape, from the green valley and fertile wheat-field to the bleak pastoral uplands that partly enclose the scene. All the foreground is occupied by smiling cottages and cultivated farms, half buried, as Mr. Thomas[292] has described them, in the umbrageous and many-coloured foliage that enriches the scene, and in which the melancholy yew-tree is conspicuous. The appearance of the ruins in this bird’s-eye view is particularly striking. Every tower, arch, and battlement--here diverging into distinct form and outline, and there grouped in picturesque confusion--strike the spectator with mixed feelings of surprise and amazement; for it is only from this elevation that he is enabled to form any correct estimate of the beauty, variety, and extent of a building, that seems every way fitted to have been the residence of a regal court.
The following table, as recommended by Mr. Thomas,[293] will assist the curious visitor in discovering the various hills and landmarks which are generally visible from the Tower of Gwent. Ranging from east to south, the prominent features of the landscape appear in the following order: namely--the Kymin, a conical hill overlooking the town of Monmouth, and crowned with its pavilion. The next is Troy Park, the favourite seat of the Ducal family; Craig-y-Dorth, the scene of a famous battle between Henry IV. and Owen Glendower; then the Trellig range of hills, particularly Beacon Hill--so called
from being used as such in the late war during the threatened invasion. The next is
Llanishen Hill, with the church of St. Dionysius; and continuous with it rise the Devaudon and “New Church Hills,” opposite the Elms; the royal forest of Wentwood and Pen-y-Cae Mawr; Kemeys Firs, near to Caerleon, an elevation which commands a view of thirteen counties.[294]
In the south-west are seen the heights of Caerleon and Pen Twyn Barlwm; Gaer Vawr, on which is an ancient encampment--the largest in the county--with the site of a British town; Dial Carig; and Craig-y-Garcyd, two miles north-west of Usk, the site of a Roman camp. In the immediate foreground are the village and church of Raglan.
Westward appear Abersycan and the hills near Pontypool; the Blorenge hill, nearly two thousand feet high.[295] The opening which occurs in the range at this point, allows of a glimpse of the Breconshire hills at Crick Howell to Bwlch, within eight miles of the county town. The next in succession are--the Sugar Loaf, or Pen-y-Foel--so called from its conical shape--near Abergavenny, which crowns the summits of four converging hills, and rises eighteen hundred and fifty-two feet above the channel of the river Gavenny, which flows near its base.
The same view takes in the Hatteril Hills, or Black Mountains, crowned with Roman encampments; and near which is Oldcastle, once the residence of Lord Cobham, whose unhappy fate forms a painful page in the national history. From these hills the Monnow takes its source. Beneath lies the dark Vale of Ewias; and in its bosom are the ruins of Lanthony, a Cistercian Abbey of the twelfth century, which forms one of the illustrated subjects of this work. In the same direction is seen the Skyrrid Vawr, a lofty hill, seen in a volcanic fissure, which is supposed to have been thrown open during one of those remote convulsions of nature, of which in these districts the traces are so distinct and frequent.
Looking northward, the prominent objects are Campstone Hill, and the Craig, at the foot of which lie the picturesque remains of Grosmont Castle, which gives the title of Viscount to the Beaufort family. To these, but more northward, succeed Garway, Broad Oak, the Skinch-Cwm, and White Hills, which close the panorama from Raglan Keep.--We have been thus particular in designating the objects seen from the different points of view, in order that the tourists who annually visit this scene, may be in some degree prepared for the enjoyment which it is so well calculated to afford.
Descending from this lofty tower, where on festive occasions the family ensign still floats, the contrast between the Natural scenery, which has just faded from the spectator’s eye, and the iron-bound work of Art, forces itself upon the mind, and elicits a spontaneous burst of gratitude that, under the protecting banner of the English Constitution, the peasant is now as safe in his cottage as ever Baron of Raglan was in his Keep; that at last “right” is a match against “might,” and that the strong arm of Justice falls with impartial force on the culprit--whether he be robed in ermine, or clad in hodden grey.
“Yet Barons of the land! to you A grateful people still retains Proud memory of the swords ye drew-- The swords that broke a tyrant’s chains, And planted Freedom on our plains! For Freedom’s cradle was the Keep , Her guardians were the Barons bold; Who placed her temple on the steep, And on her head a crown of gold; And cried--‘The deed is done! Behold, Henceforth our British land shall be The glorious land of Liberty!’”
The visitor, as he crosses the rustic bridge that now spans the moat, will recall the interesting fact, that this very spot, so to speak, was the “birthplace” of the Steam-engine ; a circumstance which, had Raglan no other claim to their notice, must entitle it to a more than cursory observation from all who have an hour to spend within its walls. The spot where it is believed to have been first placed by the inventor--then Lord Herbert--was in a building erected close under the wall of the Keep, where the drawbridge rose; but which has left few or no traces, in shape or dimensions, that are now visible above the moat. It is satisfactory, however, to know that the ground is stamped by tradition as the spot where the noble inventor, during his father’s lifetime, made his first experiments on the uses and powers of steam; and where he probably constructed that “model of his invention,” which he desired might be placed with him in his coffin.
If ancient warriors considered it an honourable distinction to be consigned to the tomb in a full suit of armour, it was excusable in one who had carried with him through life the remembrance of many wrongs, many sacrifices, to desire that, at least, the evidence of one bloodless triumph, one proof of scientific discovery, might accompany him at his final departure from this scene. It was the favourite child of his matured judgment, the result of those scientific researches, after which he had been straining for many years--the mighty consequences of which were dimly foreshadowed in his imagination. It was the reward and consolation of a life of suffering, as well as of science; and there is something both natural and touching in the wish that this model--the only mechanical evidence that told him “he had not lived in vain”--should be deposited with him in the grave.