The castles and abbeys of England; Vol. 2 of 2 / from the national records, early chronicles, and other standard authors

On the “Herbert genealogy,” Mr. Willatt relates the following characteristic Anecdote.—About two miles from Abergavenny, says he, is Handel—once a mansion of no less magnificence than antiquity; but in the present day it is only interesting from its having been the cradle of the ancient and numerous family of Herbert. Of the vast possessions of this family, the inheritance of the last lineal descendant, who died twenty years ago, had dwindled down to less than two hundred a year. But however reduced in fortune, his pride of ancestry had lost nothing of its strength or spirit by the change. Meeting a stranger one day near his mansion, who took an interest in the local history and natural beauties of the scenery, they entered into conversation.

“And pray, Sir,” inquired the stranger, “whose is that antique-looking mansion before us?”

“That, Sir,” replied the last of the Herberts, “is Handel—a very ancient house, for out of it came the Earls of Pembroke of the first line; and the Earls of Pembroke of the second line; the Lords Herbert of Cherburg; the Herberts of Coldbrook, Rumney, Cardiff, and York; the Morgans of Acton came out of it; so also did the Earl of Hunsdon; the Joneses of Treowen and Llanarth, and all the Powells. Out of this house also, by the female line, came the Dukes of Beaufort!”

“And pray, Sir,” inquired the stranger, “who lives in it now?”

“I, Sir—I live in it,” was the answer.

“Then pardon me, Sir, if I presume to give you a little advice. Do not lose sight of so many prudent examples, but come out of it yourself, or it will assuredly fall in upon you, and crush you in its ruins!”

With this digression, suggested by the subject, we return to Pembroke.

The Castle.—In the words of Giraldus, already quoted in our motto, the situation of the Castle of Pembroke is thus correctly described:—A tongue of the sea, shooting forth of Milford-Haven, encloseth in the forked end thereof the principal town of the whole country, and chief place of Dimetia, seated on the ridge of a certain craggy and long-shaped rock, from which circumstance the Britons gave it the name of Penbro, which signifies a head of the sea. Arnulph Montgomery, so often mentioned in the early portion of this work, was the first who built a temporary fortress on this promontory—a very weak and slender thing, God wot, says Giraldus—consisting of merely walls, held together by stake and turf; and which, after returning into England, he delivered unto Girald of Windesor, his constable and captain, to be kept with a garrison of a few soldiers. The absence of Arnulph, however, was the signal for immediate revolt; and the warlike inhabitants of South Wales hastening to the spot, laid siege to the brittle fortress. But here they met with such a hot reception and stubborn resistance from Girald and his small garrison, that they were speedily disheartened and raised the siege. This attack served as a warning for Girald to strengthen his position; and he lost no time in fortifying the town and castle with walls and towers, sufficient to maintain him in quiet possession of the new territory. When this was accomplished, he began to retaliate; and acting upon the aggressive, invaded the surrounding country far and near. At length, finding himself at the head of a powerful garrison, yet willing to conciliate the natives—and thereby preserve his own estates and those of his followers free from the vexation of hostile irruptions—he ingratiated himself with Gruffin, the prince of the country, who gave him his sister, the beautiful Nesta,[381] in marriage; and thus cemented a friendly alliance between the native Welsh and the Anglo-Normans. Great prosperity followed this event, and the Anglo-Normans—as Giraldus Cambrensis, who was a scion of the family, informs us—not only maintained peace along the sea-coasts of South Wales, but won also the “waulls of Ireland.”

The Giraldus de Windesor above mentioned was the first of that name; and is considered as the great progenitor of the Fitzgeralds of the present day—of whom the chief families are of Irish extraction, and familiar in the pages of modern history.

It is also written in the same documents, in regard to the tenure of this castle and town, likewise of the “castle and town of Tenbigh, of the Grange of Kingswood, of the Convent of Croytargath, and of the manors of Castle-Martin and Tregoire, that Reginald Grey, at the coronation of King Henry the Fourth, made suit to carry the second sword, but in vain; for answer was made him, that those castles and possessions were in the King’s hands, in the same manner as the town and castle of Pembroke now are”—[that is, at the date of the present extract.]

The Siege.—We now proceed to give a few details of Pembroke Castle, as it figures in the chronicles of Richard the Third and Charles the First.

The more rational and less bigoted part of the nation regarded Henry, Earl of Richmond, as the future deliverer of the kingdom, from the thraldom it endured from the tyranny of the sanguinary King Richard; for in Henry were to be united the pretensions of both the “Houses” of York and Lancaster. The Earl was, meanwhile, resident in Brittany, and living on good terms with the duke of that Province, who appeared to favour his claims, and treated him with marked respect and hospitality. But the circumstance that more immediately favoured his accession to the throne of England was the following:—Morton, Bishop of Ely, was confined in the Castle of Brecon, in custody of Henry, Duke of Buckingham, who had been a minion of Richard, and a powerful instrument of his advancement to the throne; but finding that his services in a bad cause were forgotten, and that Richard refused to ratify his claims to the Bohun estates and titles—to which he was heir—Buckingham entered warmly into the plans concerted by Morton and others for the recall of Richmond, and by his marriage with Elizabeth, daughter of Edward the Fourth, to establish a double right to the throne. Dugdale assigns another reason for Buckingham’s secession from the usurper: after asserting that he was reinstated in those possessions which he claimed as a descendant of Humphrey de Bohun, Earl of Hereford, and giving him an abstract of the instrument that put him in possession, he adds his opinion on the alteration which took place in his political sentiments, and ascribes it either to a remorse of conscience for raising Richard to the throne, after the murder of his nephews, or finding himself neglected by him: but with this question we have nothing to do.[382] Having concerted the plan of elevating Richmond to the throne, the secret was intrusted to Sir Rhys-ap-Thomas, and Richard Kyffin, Dean of Bangor—both strenuous friends of the House of Lancaster—who transmitted, by means of fishing-boats, the necessary intelligence to the Earl of Richmond, with assurance of all possible aid on his arrival in Wales. This was an occasion too alluring for the Welsh Bards to continue silent; one of whom, Dafydd ap Llwyd ap Llywelyn ap Dryffyd, lord of Mathafarn, an illustrious poet and herald, rendered himself very serviceable in the cause. His dark, mysterious, Pythonic prophecies, that a chieftain of Wales would liberate the nation from Saxon bondage, so wrought upon the valour of his countrymen, that many thousands enlisted under the banner of Sir Rhys-ap-Thomas, who afterwards joined Richmond on his arrival at Milford.

Apprized of the state and feeling of the country, and of the facilities which were now presented to him of recovering his position and station, Henry embraced the invitation as a message from Heaven; and, in the month of August, 1485, set sail for England. For this enterprise the Duke of Brétagne furnished him with a military force of two thousand men; and, with these distributed in a small fleet, he landed at Milford-Haven, where he was received with joy and acclamation by a vast concourse of friends, who now openly espoused his cause and predicted his triumph.

From Milford, Richmond proceeded to Dale and Haverfordwest, where he was joined by the above-named Sir Rhys-ap-Thomas, Arnold Butler, Richard Gryffydd, John Morgan, Sir George Talbot, with the young Earl of Shrewsbury, his ward, Sir William Stanley, lord of Bromfield Yale and Chirkland, Sir Thomas Burchier, and Sir Walter Hungerford.[383]

After a most hospitable reception at Carew Castle, it was agreed, in order to prevent disputes between the armies, that in the march to Shrewsbury, the Earl should shape his course to Cardigan, and Sir Rhys-ap-Thomas by Carmarthen. In this march, Dafydd-ap-Ievan had the honour of entertaining the illustrious Prince and his army at Llwyn-Dafydd, Cardiganshire, for one night; and the following night he was received with loyal enthusiasm at Wern-Newyd, by Einon-ap-Dafyd Llwyd. To Dafydd-ap-Ievan the Earl presented a superb hirlas, or drinking-horn, richly mounted on a silver stand, which was afterwards presented to Richard, Earl of Carbery, and may still be seen[384] at Golden Grove, the seat of Lord Cawdor, Carmarthen.

From his hospitable quarters in Cardiganshire, Richmond sallied forth to meet the usurper; and marching through Shrewsbury, Newport, Stafford, and Lichfield, encountered him at Bosworth—

The fate of that day is so familiar in the page of Shakspeare, that we close this part of our subject, and proceed to other particulars:—

Anecdote.—Of one of Richmond’s adherents, the following is told by Turner in his “History of Remarkable Providences:”—Mr. Henry Wyatt, a gentleman of Kent, was a confederate in the plan, and intrusted with the correspondence between the friends of the Earl, which he conducted with great personal risk, but the greatest fidelity, being the bearer of several dispatches to and from the parties at home and abroad. But at last his conduct being suspected, he was arrested, examined, and discharged for want of conclusive evidence. But on a second charge being brought against him, he was committed to the Tower, and there put to the torture; but such were his fortitude and resolution, that nothing could be drawn from him either to prove his own participation in the designs laid to his charge, or to incriminate others. Finding threats, tortures, and fair promises alike unavailing, he was cast into a dungeon, fed upon bread and water, and thus continued until the question of supremacy was decided by the battle of Bosworth Field. The pittance, it is said, to which he was condemned, would have been quite inadequate to support nature, had not a cat brought him food daily. He lived to be made a baronet, in compliment to his unflinching loyalty, and served in the Privy Council of Henry VII.-VIII.

A picture is said to be still preserved in the family, in which a cat is represented creeping in at a grate—having a pigeon in its mouth—with these lines:—

Cromwell, before marching against the Scottish army, thought it advisable to suppress the returning loyalty of South Wales, which had recently defeated the Parliamentary forces. The town and castle of Pembroke had been consigned by Parliament to the government and defence of Colonel Poyer; but on his declaring for the King, the “gallant conduct of himself and the garrison afforded a brilliant example of devotion to the Royal cause.” The defence was continued with so much obstinacy and resolution, that the presence of Cromwell himself was necessary for the reduction of the castle: while the garrison, having suffered for some time from great deficiency of provisions, was at last—owing, as we shall see, to Lord Jermyn’s total neglect of his engagements—reduced to the verge of absolute famine.

Cromwell, in the meantime, was quite unaware of the real position of affairs within the walls; and thinking, from the resistance already offered, that the place might hold out much longer than would be consistent with his other plans, was on the point of raising the siege. But while this question was agitating his mind, a deserter from the Royalist camp brought him intelligence that, owing to the pressure of famine, it was impossible that Poyer and his companions could maintain their post beyond twenty-four hours. This unexpected news determined him to continue the siege; but however much he prized his timely information, he determined to express his abhorrence of the “informer;” and—as a salutary warning to all traitors—he ordered him to be hanged.

It has been doubted, however, whether, in his “military capacity,” Cromwell was ever in this part of Wales—though Mr. Yorke allows that he might have made a friendly visit there; for in an old house at Kinmael, that once belonged to the Llwyds, of the tribe of Maredudd—but at that period to Colonel Carter, an officer in his favour—there is a room called Cromwell’s parlour; and, with other circumstances taken into consideration, little doubt, he thinks, can be entertained of Cromwell’s having in person conducted the siege of Pembroke.[385]

But the following documents, written by Oliver Cromwell himself, are conclusive:—

Again—

[Colonel Poyer has had to surrender the castle; Maj.-Gen. Laugharne and certain other “persons excepted,” have had to surrender at mercy; a great many more on terms. “Pembroke happily is down, and the Welsh war is ended.”]

The “certain persons” here alluded to were Colonels Laugharne, Powel, and Poyer. They were tried by court-martial and found guilty; but Parliament having determined to punish only one, three papers were given to them, on two of which were written, “Life given by God;” the blank paper fell into the hands of the unfortunate Poyer, and served as his death-warrant.

Of these three officers—“heads of the insurrection in South Wales”—Clarendon gives the following account:—“Laugharne, Powel, and Poyer, commanded those parts under the Parliament, which they had served from the beginning. The first of them was a gentleman of good extraction, and a fair fortune in land in those counties, who had been bred a page under the Earl of Essex, when he had a command in the Low Countries, and continued his dependence upon him afterwards, and was much in his favour; and by that relation was first engaged in the rebellion, as many other gentlemen had been without wishing ill to the King. The second, Powel, was a gentleman too, but a soldier of fortune: the third, Poyer, had from a low trade raised himself in the war to the reputation of a very diligent and stout officer, and was at this time trusted by the Parliament with the government of the town and castle of Pembroke. These three communicated their discontents to each other, and all thought themselves ill-requited by the Parliament for the services they had done, and that other men, especially Colonel Mitten, were preferred before them; and resolved to take the opportunity of the Scots coming in, to declare for the King upon the Presbyterian account. But Laugharne, who was not infected with any of these freaks, and doubted not to reduce the other two when it should be time to sober resolution, would not engage till he first sent a confidant to Paris, to inform the Prince of what he had determined, and of what their wants consisted, which if not relieved, they should not be able to pursue their purpose, desiring to receive orders for the time of their declaring, and assurance that they should in time receive those supplies they stood in need of. And the Lord Jermyn sent him a promise under his hand, ‘that he should not fail of receiving all the things he had desired, before he could be pressed by the enemy,’ and therefore conjured him and his friends ‘forthwith to declare for the King, which, he assured them, would be of singular benefit and advantage to his Majesty’s service, since, upon the first notice of their having declared, the Scottish army would be ready to march into England.’ Hereupon they presently declared, before they were provided to keep the field for want of ammunition and money, and when Pembroke was not supplied with provisions for above two months, and were never thought of after.”

Pembroke Castle contained many elegant apartments, appropriated to the use of its lords, in one of which Henry VII. first saw the light of day. In the inner ward stands the Keep, a circular tower of vast strength and elegant proportions. The height is computed at seventy feet, the interior diameter at twenty-four, and the walls from fourteen to seventeen feet in thickness. The State Apartments appear to have been finished in a style of great elegance. On the north of the great tower is a long range of apartments, which seem to be of more recent construction, or to have been modernised in later times by one or other of its titled proprietors. From this part of the castle a staircase communicates with Leland’s “marvellus vault callid the Hogan”—a large cavern in the rock, opening upon the water, and extending a great way under the buildings. The entrance is now partially walled up, and formed into a spacious doorway. The name Hogan—which has occasioned some discussion among antiquaries and etymologists—is probably derived from ogof or ogov, the British name for a cavern. This castle is justly considered one of the most splendid remnants of military architecture in the United Kingdom; and, from the state of preservation in which it is maintained, the design and execution of every compartment may still be traced with accuracy and precision.

CARDIFF CASTLE,

Glamorganshire.

ARDIFF, a neat and well-built town, stands at the mouth of the river Taafe, from which it probably derives its name.[386] Its chief ornaments are the church and the castle—the latter a structure of great antiquity, and now converted into a modern residence, in which the features of a Norman stronghold are made to harmonize with the embellishments of a refined age; and where, instead of prancing steeds and bristling spears, the ballia are lined with wallflower, shrubberies, and all those tranquil emblems, which indicate the reign of peace, and the cultivation of taste. Such innovations and refinements, however, are rather out of character with the place.

The town, when such protection was necessary, was surrounded by a wall, flanked with towers, and fit to resist and repulse an army of besiegers; but these warlike appendages, like those who built them, have passed away, and left behind them little more than the tradition of their massive strength and number. The towers, as well as the castle, were the work of Fitz-Hamon, who, as already noticed, possessed himself of Glamorganshire at the close of the eleventh century, and divided the spoils among his retainers. The following account of his expedition—somewhat different from the chronicle above quoted—is from Caradoc of Llancarvan:[387]—About the same time also died Cadifor, the son of Calhoyn, lord of Dyfed, whose sons, Llewellyn and Eineon, moved Gruffydh-ap-Meredith to take up arms against his sovereign prince, Rhys-ap-Twdor, with whom they joined all the forces they could levy among their tenants and dependants; and then passing with their army to Llandydoch, boldly challenged Rhys to fight; who thereupon gave them battle, and after an engagement, maintained with great resolution on both sides, the rebels were at length put to flight, and so closely pursued that Gruffydh was taken prisoner, and executed as a traitor. But his brother Eineon making his escape, and not daring to trust himself to any of his kindred, fled to Jestyn-ap-Gurgant, lord of Morgannwe, then in actual rebellion against Prince Rhys. And, to ingratiate himself the more in Jestyn’s favour, he promised, on the performance of certain articles—one of which was, that he should receive his daughter in marriage—that he would bring over to his aid a considerable body of Normans, with whom he was intimately acquainted, from the fact of his having served with them in England. These articles being agreed to, Eineon hastened across the frontier, and soon prevailed on Fitz-Hamon and his knights to take up the cause of Jestyn. Early in the spring they arrived in Glamorganshire, and joining Jestyn marched with their combined forces into the dominions of Prince Rhys, where, without the least show of mercy to his countrymen, Eineon, by his own example, encouraged the Normans to destroy all that came before them. The prince, then more than ninety-eight years of age, and sadly grieved to find his people and territory so unmercifully harassed, speedily raised an army and marched against the invaders. They met near Brecknock, and there, after a most sanguinary engagement, the venerable prince fell at the head of his army, and left his country a prey to Norman domination. Having discharged their stipulated service, and received the promised reward, Fitz-Hamon and his army prepared to embark for England. But before they set sail, Eineon made his complaint that Jestyn had ungratefully affronted him, and absolutely refused—now that the Normans were dismissed—to make good the conditions previously agreed upon between them; and such was the malignity of his revenge, that he resolved rather to see his country pass under the yoke of the Normans, than continue under the dominion of a chief who could thus forget the hand that had procured him the victory. He therefore made use of every argument most likely to influence the Norman spirit, and prevailed. They returned from their ships and prepared for another campaign; and great was the surprise of Jestyn when he learned that the friends whom he had so lately dismissed laden with the reward of their services, and satisfied with his liberality, were again on shore with the avowed intention of engaging him in mortal conflict. He now lamented his folly in having so rashly broken his promise with Eineon; but that was an error which it was now too late to rectify. The Norman standard was once more waving from the adjoining heights. The soldiers were animated with the prospect of another victory—the rich spoils they were to share—and charmed with the accounts which Eineon had promulgated among them, as baits to their cupidity, of the fertile settlements that here awaited them. The conflict was brief. Jestyn had little to oppose to men who were resolved to possess themselves of the country. Unable to protract the contest, he abandoned his lordship of Glamorgan to the invader, and retired into obscurity—there to meditate on his own folly, and the degradation to which it had reduced him.

The Normans, as usual, took the “lion’s share.” They divided the best portions of the soil—all that was most pleasant and productive—among themselves; and left only the mountainous and craggy ground to Eineon, with whatever enjoyment a sense of gratified revenge, and the voluntary subjugation of his country, was calculated to furnish. From this moment the Normans were established in Wales; and soon began to erect those monuments of their sway, which it is our present object to notice and illustrate.

Curthose Tower.—The apartment where Prince Robert was confined by his unnatural brother, is traditionally known as “Curthose’s Tower.” So in Chepstow Castle, the keep is distinguished as “Marten’s Tower;” but between the fate of the two prisoners, who have left their names thus associated, there is no resemblance. The more illustrious the captive, the more dismal was the cell in which he was immured. It must have been at all times a wretched dungeon, such only as a malignant fiend would have assigned to its human victim. A ray of light, barely sufficient to distinguish the difference between night and day, is admitted by a small square hole perforated through the wall upwards; and the mere fact of his having existed in this dreary cell for the long period of twenty-six years, proves that Robert Curthose must have possessed no ordinary degree of fortitude and resignation. But the courage inspired by conscious innocence is proof against the machinations of Fortune—

The sufferings inflicted upon Robert in this dismal prison, are a theme on which the old chronicles dilate with painful minuteness. It would be a relief to imagine that the acts of wanton cruelty practised upon the defenceless victim, may have been, like many other points of history, exaggerated or misrepresented; but, taken in connection with other deeds of the time, there is but too just grounds to conclude that the story of Robert’s imprisonment, and the tortures with which it was accompanied, is no fable, but one of those tragical dramas of real life, to which the force of imagination can impart no additional horror. The subject, although referred to in the previous volume of this work, may justify a few more extracts:—

“But long it was not ere Duke Robert, weary of this unwonted duresse, sought to escape; and having to walke in the Kinge’s meadows, forests, and parkes, brake from his keepers without any assisters, or meanes for security; who being missed was presently pursued and taken in a quagmire, wherein his horse lay fast. Whereupon the King hearing of this attempt, considering that woods were no walls to restrain the fierce lyon, and that to play with his claws was to endanger the state, commanded him not onely a greater restraint and harder durance, but also—a thing unfit for a brother to suffer, and most unworthy for Beauclearke to act—both his eyes to be put out. To effect this truly barbarous act, he caused his head to be held in a burning basin—thereby avoiding the deformity of breaking the eye-balls—until the glassie tunicles had lost the office of retaining their light.”

But at last, after twenty-six years’ imprisonment, “through griefe conceived at the putting on of a faire new roabe—(too little for the Kinge himselfe, and therefore, ‘in kindnesse,’ says the Chronicle, ‘sent to Duke Robert to weare’)—he grew weary of his life, as disdaining to be mocked with his brother’s cast cloaths; and cursing the time of his unfortunate nativity, refused thenceforth to take any sustenance, and so pined himselfe to death.”

Cardiff, in later times, was a point on which Owen Glendower discharged his vengeance. The inhabitants of Glamorganshire, as descendants of the Norman conquerors above named, were pre-eminently distinguished for their loyalty to the King, and their oppression of the natives. But now they were to feel “the dire resentment of an irritated injured countryman.” The visit of Ivor Bach to Fitz-Hamon was not more welcome than this of Owen to his descendants. “Ivor Bach, a Briton,” says Camden, “who dwelt in the mountains, a man of small stature but of resolute courage, marched by night with a band of soldiers, and seized Cardiff Castle, carrying away William, Earl of Gloucester, Fitz-Hamon’s grandson by the daughter, together with his wife and son, whom he detained prisoners until he had received full satisfaction for all former injuries.” The residence of this renowned Briton was Castell Goch, an outport of Cardiff. He was attached to the daughter of Jestyn-ap-Gwrgant above named; and being rejected as a suitor for her hand, he stormed Cardiff Castle, carried her off by force; but, being overtaken in his retreat near a valley called Pant-coed Ivor, he fell under the swords of his pursuers.

To return to Glendower: “Having burnt, pursuant to his desolating system, the Bishop’s palace of Llandaff and other houses, he proceeded to Cardiff, which he also consigned to the flames.” The town in these days contained many religious houses—“a goodly priory founded by Robert, the first Earl of Gloucester; a priory of Black Monks, or Benedictines; a house of Black Friars in Crokerton Street; a house of Grey Friars, dedicated to St. Francis, under the custody or wardship of Bristol; and also a house of White Friars.” None of these houses experienced any favour from Glendower except the Franciscans, who, having been firm adherents to King Richard, and on good terms with Owen, escaped the conflagration; for the whole town was burnt down except the street where their monastery stood. In this destructive raid through Glamorganshire, he demolished the ancient Castle of Penmarc, which belonged to Gilbert Humphreville, one of Fitz-Hamon’s knights, before named; and which has remained in ruins ever since.[388] But we need not prosecute these records of a barbarous age further than our subject demands.

TENBY CASTLE,

Pembrokeshire.

ENBY, so justly celebrated in the present day as a delightful watering-place, possesses in its traditions and antiquities many features of deep interest to the archæologist; and although not selected as a subject of special illustration in this work, it is fully entitled to the admiration of the tourist—whether in search of health, the gray landmarks of History, or studying the picturesque face of Nature in one of her most delightful aspects. Part of its buildings occupy the crest of an almost insulated tongue of land projecting into the sea; others slope down gradually to the harbour at its foot; while the extreme point of the promontory is crowned with the ruins of the Castle. “Nothing,” to quote the words of a late sketch,[389] “can be prettier than its little bay, encircled with rocks of romantic unusual form, and beautiful warm rich colouring, in some places overhung with wood, more crystalline than the emerald sea which washes their base, or more white and firm than the rim of sand which encircles it. In addition to these, the expanse of sea is everywhere magnificent. Nothing can surpass the view from the highest part of the town, where it overlooks the busy little Harbour—the Castle—the Bay, with Caldy Island; the black Rocks of Giltar Point—the distant Mountains of Carmarthenshire—and the Peninsula of Gower, with its conspicuous and fantastic termination—the Worm’s Head Promontory.

“To these natural beauties must be added the mingling of old-world relics with its modern buildings; traces of towers and fortifications, antiquated back streets, and crumbling fragments of the Castle, hanging over the verge of its sea-beaten rock. But a still greater recommendation to ordinary visitors is the extreme purity and softness of the air, the neatness and cleanliness of the streets, the quiet yet cheerful look of the place, and the romantic coast-scenery of the neighbourhood, with the ruins of castles and other buildings thickly studded within the circuit of a few miles.” With all these before us, it may well be questioned whether any other watering-place in the kingdom can offer a combination of attractions equal to those of Tenby.

The town appears to have derived its earliest importance from its fisheries;[390] and this, added to the many obvious advantages of its site, at a time when the Anglo-Norman lords made their first successful descent upon these shores, clearly pointed it out as a fit locality for the establishment of a new colony, and the erection of a strong castle for their protection. When the Flemish settlers—after being driven from their own home by successive inundations—had this coast assigned to them, the prosperity of Tenby became gradually accelerated and secured. Under the example of that industrious people, who had brought with them a more refined knowledge of commercial intercourse and its numerous advantages, the harbour was improved, the population of the town were soon engaged in an extensive woollen manufactory, which, with an increase of inland and foreign traffic, gradually enriched and enlarged the place. The commercial spirit of the inhabitants, by increasing the wealth of the native lords, procured for Tenby the numerous privileges and immunities which it received under successive governments; while the Earls of Pembroke, much to their honour, were liberal and munificent in the foundation and endowment of religious and charitable institutions.

History.—Among the historical facts in the records of Tenby, is the escape of Richmond, afterwards Henry the Seventh, from this harbour, by the connivance of Thomas White, the mayor. “Henry, who had been besieged in Pembroke Castle, succeeded at last in passing the guard, and making his way to the nearest harbour, where he meant to embark for the continent.” Here he was received by the mayor, a wealthy wine merchant, whose commercial intercourse with France gave him every facility for serving the Prince in this necessitous position of his fortunes. He was no sooner aware that young Richmond and his mother were in need of his advice and aid, than he provided them with a temporary shelter from all danger of their enemies; and as soon as a vessel could be got ready, conducted them on board, and placing the royal fugitives under the care of a skilful and trusty skipper, commended them to Heaven, and saw them safely entered on their prosperous voyage to Brittany.

It is pleasing to add that, when the fortunes of Richmond had placed him on the throne, the generous conduct of the worthy mayor of Tenby was not forgotten. The royal favour was expressed by giving him a life-grant of the King’s lands in and around Tenby, with all the privileges thereto belonging; and thus making him, in his own person and experience, a pleasing exception to the proverbial ingratitude of princes.

The town was formerly—and so long as fortifications were indispensable—a place of great strength. But of the massive walls and gates, by which it was attached to the Castle as a citadel, the remains present no features of paramount interest, except, perhaps, to the plodding antiquary, whose eyes penetrate far below the surface, and trace bastions and circumvallations where ordinary men see nothing but the weeds that cover them.

The Church is a capacious edifice—not remarkable for its architecture, but with a lofty spire which, like most others on the coast, serves as an imposing landmark. Churches, dedicated to St. Nicholas, were generally planted on some commanding eminence overlooking the sea; so that a glimpse of the sacred landmark might inspire the bewildered mariner with fresh courage to renew the struggle, or new light to direct his course, when overtaken by storms or darkness.

The interior of the Church is enriched with an elaborately-carved ceiling, and various sepulchral antiquities—some of which are curious and interesting. But that to which the stranger will probably turn with a partial eye, is the tomb of the worthy Mayor already named, containing the effigies of John and Thomas White in the quaint costume of their time, which it was the great merit of “old mortality” sculptors to imitate, in strict subserviency to the tailor and embroiderer. Here also—as in several other churches elsewhere—is the effigy of a human figure in the last stage of emaciation; supposed to be that of a Bishop of St. David’s, when bishops were known to fast as well as to pray. Perhaps of him who, in the great dearth—mentioned in a former page of this work—is said to have died of famine—a very improbable conjecture; for these exhibitions of frail mortality were only intended as monitors to the living, and to remind the thoughtless and idle spectators that to “this they must expect to come at last.” On a flat tombstone in the floor is an inscription which suggests revolting ideas of the barbarous practices that once disgraced the “inhospitable” shores of our own land. The words are, “Walter Vaughan, iv. Jan. 1637;” the name, as it is conjectured, of the once notorious “wrecker of Dunraven:” a miscreant who, by hanging out false lights in tempestuous weather, allured unhappy merchantmen, and other vessels, to the rocks; and when the sea had broken over them, and the crews were struggling in the arms of despair, descended with his fellow-ruffians to the double exercise of murder and plunder. Having amassed capital in this manner, he is supposed to have selected this coast as an “elegant retirement,” where he could enjoy the pleasures of society, without betraying the secret of his trade, and take his place at last among those worthies who have enriched the hallowed pile with their dust. We would gladly indulge the hope that this story, though repeated as a fact, is to be regarded only in the light of a fable; although every reader is aware that the wreckers of Cornwall were not imaginary beings.

The Carmelites, whose rule was founded upon that of St. Basil, had a house here, founded by John de Swynmore, of which the convent, or college, dedicated to St. Mary, stood near the parish church. But the ancient features of the town are fast passing away, and in a few years hence—if the march of improvement continue to advance at the same rate—many of the antiquities of Tenby will have become rather objects of faith than of sight.

Of the Castle, the only portions now standing that indicate its former strength are a bastion and a square tower. The rest of the structure exhibits rather the air of a splendid mansion than of a military fortress. On the north are the ruins of a large hall, about a hundred feet in length by twenty in breadth—not the usual proportions; and near the grand entrance gate is another apartment, eighty feet long by thirty feet wide. Attached to these two apartments are several others of smaller dimensions—used probably as offices, or barracks for the garrison. The situation of this fortress was admirably adapted for defence. It occupied the extreme point of the promontory; and on every side—except that facing the town, which was strengthened by art—it was secured by inaccessible rocks. The original founder of this stronghold is supposed to have been one or other of those Anglo-Norman lords who, in the manner already described, rendered themselves masters of the country. In their wars with the native princes, this Castle became a frequent object of attack; and in the year 1151, it was taken by Meredydd and Rhys, sons of Gruffyd-ap-Rhys, who put the garrison to the sword, in revenge for the shelter they had given to certain persons charged with having attacked and wounded their brother Cadell, while engaged in a hunting excursion in the neighbourhood. Again, in 1186, it was invested by Maelgwn, son of Rhys-ap-Gruffyd, who, by bringing an overwhelming force against it, took the fortress, and demolished the works. But the history of this stronghold, like that of most others built and garrisoned for the same purpose, is nothing more than a catalogue of disasters, of siege and storm, capture and surrender; where spectacles of blood were followed by scenes of barbaric splendour, and he who conquered to-day was often to-morrow’s captive.

Corporation.—Tenby was incorporated about the time of Edward the Third, by charters granted by the Earls of Pembroke, the provisions of which were afterwards confirmed and extended by Richard the Third and his successors. Previous to 1835, the government was vested in a mayor, common council, and an indefinite number of burgesses—the mayor and common council being the governing body; and the style of the Corporation—“The Mayor, Bailiffs, and Burgesses of the Borough of Tenby.”

Besides the ecclesiastical buildings already noticed, there are the Town Hall, the Assembly Rooms, a Theatre, spacious baths, and various minor edifices. All these combine to give an air of taste, comfort, and prosperity to the borough; and present to the mind’s eye a pleasing contrast to the crumbling monuments of feudal vassalage, that for centuries held this flourishing little town in its iron grasp. The harbour consists of two piers, which shoot into a corner of the bay, and nearly encircle a small but safe spot for the anchorage of vessels. The woollen trade, first introduced by the Flemish settlers, has been long superseded. The imports are chiefly articles of domestic consumption; and the exports consist of butter, corn, coal, and culm. During the fishing season, Tenby is a station for the vessels belonging to Plymouth and Broxham; and the oyster-beds constitute a source of considerable profit to the fishermen. The prosperity of the place, however, depends more upon its attractions as a watering-place, than upon any advantage it possesses as a seaport; and in this respect, as already observed, it takes unquestioned precedence over the majority of those fashionable resorts which have so long flourished under the smile of popular favour.

Flemings.—The cause which immediately led to the Flemish settlement on this coast is as follows:—An inundation[391] of great magnitude happening in the Low Countries soon after the Conquest, a vast number of Flemings, driven from their homes, betook themselves to their ships, and landing in England implored an asylum. An increase of industrious peaceable subjects was an object not to be overlooked by the Conqueror. They were accordingly received with alacrity, and treated with cordial hospitality. After a time these strangers were distributed over the country, and wherever they settled contributed to the prosperity of the district. “Many Flemings,” says Malmesbury, “came over to England on account of relationship to the mother of Henry the First, by her father’s side; insomuch that—like the Germans of the present day—they were burthensome to the kingdom.” “Farther,” says the old historian, “William Rufus had generally ill fortune against the Welsh, which one may well wonder at, seeing that all his attempts elsewhere were crowned with success. But I am of opinion that the unevenness of their country, and the severity of the weather, favoured their rebellion; so it hindered their progress. But King Henry found out an act to frustrate all their inventions, by planting Flemings in their country to curb and continually harass them. King Henry often endeavoured to reduce the Welsh, who were always prone to rebellion. At last, very advisedly, in order to abate their pride, he transplanted thither all the Flemings that lived in England. Wherefore, because their numbers created uneasiness, and were burthensome to the kingdom, he thrust them all into Ros, a province of Wales, as unto a common shore, as well to rid the kingdom of them, as to curb the obstinacy of his enemies.”

To the multitude of Flemings thus disposed of, Henry the Second added, by banishing out of England all the Flemish soldiers who had taken service under King Stephen, and granting them permission to join their compatriots in Pembrokeshire. But although historians in general confine the influx of Flemish settlers to the lower part of Pembrokeshire, it is certain that they extended over a much wider district, namely, the whole sea-coast bounding the counties of Pembroke, Carmarthen, Cardigan, and Glamorgan. Of the Flemish colony who settled in Cardiganshire, there are unequivocal proofs in our own times; for their posterity, who continue to inhabit the tract assigned to their ancestors, differ materially from the aboriginal Welsh, not only in the peculiarities of speech, but in those physical distinctions which mark the different races of mankind. “There is a farm called Nant-y-Flyman,” says Mr. Thomas,[392] “in the parish of Verwick, two miles north of Cardigan, which is said to derive its name from the landing of this colony at Traeth-y-Mwnt, a small creek hard by. The reception they met with on disembarking, was from the swords of armed natives; and in the carnage that ensued, fell many of the best and bravest on both sides. In commemoration of this disastrous rencounter, several heaps of sand adjoining Mount Church point out to this day the cromlechs of the slain, and are traditionally called “the graves of the Flemings—Beddau’r Fflemings—where bones of gigantic size often make their appearance.”

In the Welsh Chronicle, we read that the Normans and Flemings inhabited the county of Carmarthen, about Llanstephan—the castle of which we shall presently notice; and under the conduct of Girald and William de Hay invested the said castle. That they extended likewise coastwise to Glamorganshire, is evident from the Gower Whittle—a provincial article of dress peculiar to the Flemings, and from them adopted by the Welsh in general. The south-west portion of Gower, according to Mr. Collins, is inhabited by the descendants of a colony of Flemings, who do not talk the Welsh language, and are distinguished by their own peculiar dress. They seldom intermarry with their neighbours on the north-west side of the Gower. Mr. Pye supposes that the Flemings in Wales still speak the language of Flanders; and relates that a servant, inquiring the road, “could not understand the language of some cottagers, nor make them to understand him, though a Welshman; and he was certain they did not speak Welsh. After much altercation, and inquiry at an alehouse, all ineffectually, a clergyman solves their doubts by relating that some Flemish families had settled in that part of South Wales, and have retained their language to this day.” Here, however, Mr. Pye must have been misinformed; for they all speak—that is, the lower class—a horrid provincial dialect of the English language, though not much worse than certain counties of England, retaining many Saxon words now obsolete, and unintelligible to any but an antiquary. Camden says, “They speak a language so agreeable with the English (which indeed has much affinity with the Dutch), that this small country of theirs is called by the Britons—‘Little England below Wales.’” “But here Mr. Pye is to be regarded as a novelist,” says Thomas;[393] “for his account is not historically true.”

The policy of King Henry in settling these Flemings in Wales, for the purposes of conquest, security, and strength, was very judicious. Being a very warlike people—Belgæ—inevitably attached to their benefactors the English kings, they were always ready to join their standard, or to make a diversion in their favour against the Welsh. But such frontier military posts as surrounded the Welsh—such a cordon of warlike foreigners settled on their coasts—became a source of much evil to the natives; and altogether inadequate for the purpose which their introduction was intended to serve; namely, “to secure the fidelity of the Welsh nation”—whom, on the contrary, their harsh usage and oppression only contributed to alienate from the English crown, until their antipathy and resentment found vent in the open insurrection of Owen Glendower.

The colony is thus described by Giraldus:—“Gens hæc fortis et robusta; continuoque belli conflictu gens Cambrensibus inimicissima, gens lanificiis, gens mercimoniis usitatissima, quocumque labore sive periculo, terra marique lucrum quærere. Gens prævalida vicissim loco et tempore, nunc ad arma, nunc ad aratra gens promptissima.”