Chapter VI: Part 6

During this sudden and tremendous visitation, the indignant spirit of <g>Strongbow</g>--accompanied by the spectral forms of many whose death-sleep had been thus wantonly disturbed--arose from the grave, and fixed his eyes upon the petrified strangers. Then raising his gauntleted hand, he pointed to the abbey door--which at the sight had mysteriously opened--and sternly beckoned the impious visitors to depart! The awful signal was instantly obeyed; and some crawling, others trembling--all pale and speechless, the daring adventurers rushed from his presence, they knew not how, and fled they knew not whither; while the savoury viands left behind them were instantly swept over the abbey walls in a whirlwind.

<g>The Engraved Views of Tinterne Abbey.</g>

I.--<g>The West Entrance</g>,[180] a beautiful specimen of Decorated Gothic; the principal feature of which is the great west window, of which all visitors and writers on this subject have expressed their unqualified admiration. The stonework of this magnificent feature is nearly entire; the five mullions, tall, slender, and elaborately moulded, retain their original forms; and, terminating in the rich flowing tracery that fills and completes the arch, appear as if they wanted nothing but the ancient painted glass to restore the window to its primitive splendour. The ivy inserting itself into every joint, and hanging in graceful festoons, seems more like artificial garlands woven in honour of a fête day, than as the sure emblem and evidence of dilapidation and decay. Beneath this window is the richly-carved double doorway leading into the nave. On the right hand is another window communicating with the southern aisle, surmounted by a window of three compartments, and two buttresses terminating in pinnacles, of which only one remains. On the left hand is the north aisle, in form and dimensions exactly corresponding with the former, but much less perfect. Closely adjoining this were the abbey cloisters, the remains of which have been noticed in a former page.

II.--<g>The Vale of Tinterne</g>,[181] as it is seen from a point--in the woods covering the left bank of the Wye--called the Devil’s Pulpit. This engraving conveys a most correct, beautiful, and comprehensive view of the abbey, and its circumjacent scenery. In the backgrounds is seen the hill country stretching westward towards Monmouth. On the left, crowning an eminence that overlooks the village and abbey, stands the church of Chapel-hill, with the characteristic feature of an immense yew-tree expanding its gloomy branches over the cemetery. Beneath is seen the public road from Chepstow running westward, and branching off in the village to right and left; the latter branch running along the hills towards Raglan, and the former following the course of the Wye to Monmouth. To the right, under the wooded rocks which appear to overhang its channel, the Wye is seen making a curve like a horseshoe, so as to form a peninsula, the outer rim of which, as described in the text, is lined with houses that rise one above the other, and planted here and there with tall poplars, and refreshed with numerous springs and rivulets, that, after murmuring down the rocks, throw their crystal tribute into the Wye. Here the river is seen enlivened with passage-boats, by means of which a daily communication between the villages above and below the abbey is kept open for the conveyance of market produce, or the convenience of passengers.

In the foreground lies the glory of the scene--the <g>abbey</g> and its appendages--the latter much curtailed; but once, as history informs us, enclosing the goodly space of thirty-four acres. The view looks down upon the conventual church, showing the nave and transepts in their cruciform proportions, with the magnificent east window opening upon some rich productive orchards, the ground of which was consecrated in former times as the abbey cemetery. Stretching along the river eastward is a luxuriant tract of pasture land, called the Abbots’ Meadows, already described. Nothing can be more soothing and tranquil than this scene, embosomed, as it is, among sylvan landscapes, and bordered by a river whose smooth yet swift-flowing waters are heard in the calm summer evening like distant music.

“And ever, as the summer sun goes down,
From bank to bank, amidst yon leafy bower,
The woodland songsters trill harmonious notes;
Till every tree that crowns the verdant steep,
Or shades the stream, that flows in amber light,
Sends forth its melody.”

III.--<g>From the Chancel</g>, westward.[182] This is justly considered to be the most imposing view in the whole abbey; and is that to which every stranger visiting the ruins is conducted at the close of his survey. The point from which it is taken, is under the area of the great tower, near the further angle of the north transept and chancel. Looking through the lofty arches that supported the central tower, it takes in the west window, the window of the north aisle, the nave, and on the right, the <g>doorway</g> leading into the cloisters--of which an engraving is here given--with the massive clustered pillars, lofty and delicately moulded arches, in which an airy lightness, combined with strength and solidity, strike the spectator with feelings of awe and admiration, to which it is hardly possible to give expression--

“Silence sublime, and stillness how profound;
Yet every arch, with clustered ivy hung,
And every column, as thou gazest round,
Seems to address thee in thy native tongue;
Telling how first these mighty structures rose,
And how they fell beneath their Vandal foes.”

In the centre are the two sepulchral slabs, already described in another portion of the text; and on the left, leaning against the base of one of the pillars, is a mutilated statue, supposed to be that of Roger Bigod, or Gilbert de Clare, as shown in the woodcut, page 41. In various parts of the chancel, choir, and transepts, as well as in the nave and aisles, many dilapidated fragments are collected in heaps; among which the visitor will distinguish pieces of elaborate carving, particularly some ingenious and fancifully sculptured <g>bosses</g>, the connecting ornaments of the richly-groined roof that once overhung this gorgeous temple, and echoed back the anthems of its assembled choir.

IV.--<g>From the Ferry</g>,[183] on the opposite or left bank of the Wye. On the foreground is the landing-place, from which a road,[184] or bridle-path, winding along the wooded heights, already noticed in our description of the ‘Devil’s Pulpit,’ presents many picturesque, and some romantic points of view. The river is here the boundary line between the counties of Monmouth and Gloucester, or, anciently, between England and South Wales. Directly opposite, and terminating the causeway leading up from the ferry, is an archway, the ancient <g>watergate</g> of the abbey. Through this gate the monastery received its supplies from the barges that daily ascended and descended the river, or lay at anchor under the protection of the abbey; for here, we were told, there is depth of water--which is increased at every tide--sufficient to float vessels of seventy tons burthen. The grove, which occupies the space between the water and the abbey walls, consists chiefly of apple and pear-trees, which form a continuous girdle of orchards round the abbey church, and are particularly luxuriant and productive, on the site of the ancient burial-ground. The ring of offices with which the abbey was originally enclosed on nearly three sides, has almost disappeared, leaving only the foundations, upon which, from time to time, mean hovels have been hastily thrown together--ill adapted for the health, comfort, or even convenience of human beings.

The prominent features of the abbey as seen from this point, and taken in detail are--the <g>nave</g>, terminating in the great west window, with its own five lancet-pointed windows rising above the trees; the north <g>transept</g>, part of the south, and two windows of the <g>chancel</g>.

Following the course of the river eastward, richly-wooded rocks are seen, closing the landscape, and commanding the minute and beautiful view of the “Vale of Tinterne,” already given as an illustration. All beyond the white sail on the stream is a scene of richly-wooded rocks on the left bank, and on the right a wide expanse of smooth and verdant meadows. The hills, immediately overlooking the abbey on the south, possess the same picturesque character as those opposite, but are enlivened by more frequent habitations, and with more traces of industry and cultivation. The ferry-house, close to the watergate, presents some features of antiquity; and stands, probably, on the old foundation of what was occupied by the abbot’s <g>Charon</g> of the olden time. A glance at the debris, under which some of the monastic buildings here lie half buried, suggests an idea that, with due permission and encouragement, antiquaries could hardly fail to discover excellent “diggings” in these purlieus. But thus far the prying archæologist has been regarded with suspicion and distrust, and condemned to look upon the antiquities of Tinterne as treasures laid up for the benefit of future generations.

V.--<g>Doorway leading into the Cloisters.</g>--This beautiful specimen of art is one of the very finest in the abbey. The elegance of the design is only surpassed by the elaborate taste and skill displayed in its execution. The clustered mouldings of the doorway; the wavy multifoil outline of the inner arch; the beautifully carved ornament that surrounds the whole like a riband of delicate lacework; the whole crowned with the symbolic trefoil resting on the apex of the arch, present a combination of features--all harmonizing, and all elaborately adjusted to one another--rarely to be met with even among the masterpieces of Decorated Gothic.[185]

Looking through this doorway, the window in the distance is that of the southern aisle, through which are seen the woods on the opposite hill; and inside the walls the ivy is seen climbing in verdant masses along the arches and pillars of the nave. Under the broken steps, where the group of figures is represented, are the remains of sepulchral stone-slabs, covering the resting-place of the old abbots, and formerly inlaid with the symbols of their holy office, as

Tintern Abbey.]

represented in the engraving. But the _brasses_ have long since disappeared, and left only the empty grooves to which they had been so elaborately adjusted by the skilful artists of that day. Brasses, or <g>Latten</g>, are considered to be good illustrations of the architecture of their period, owing to the designs of canopies, crosiers, &c. delineated upon them. They are seldom to be met with in any reign prior to that of Edward the Second; nor did they become general till towards the close of the fourteenth century, when the effigies are commonly surmounted by arched canopies, ogee-shaped and crocketed, of the same kind of inlaid work elaborately engraven. These subsequently vary, according to the style of the age, and in general rather preceding than following it. Of the brasses, which--owing to the rank and character of its founder and benefactors, as well as its abbots and others--must have formed no inconsiderable feature in the decorations of Tinterne Abbey, not a fragment remains.

Where <g>Latten</g> marked the abbots’ grave,
And sculpture spread her trophies round it;
Rank weeds in wild luxuriance wave,
And mock the gaudy shrine that crowned it.
Here, they who for the <g>Cross</g> had died,
And they who led the way to glory--
Here mitred pomp, and martial pride,
Have not a stone to tell their story.

VI.--<g>Doorway leading into the Sacristy.</g>--This is a double doorway--a specimen of the Early English--divided by a moulded shaft, with a circular opening, or quatrefoil, over it. The outer arch is deeply ‘recessed,’ consisting of five or six successive shafts, or mouldings, on either side, without capitals, and meeting above at the centre of the arch. The inner arches are foliated, and the cusps richly fluted. Clasping this elegant and massive structure, the ivy has so incorporated itself with the masonry, that--massive as it is--art must gradually yield to that natural process which seems to make every root of ivy, if once insinuated between the jointed stones, act like a fulcrum for their dislodgment--

“Ha, ha!” laughs the Ivy, “let men uprear
Their ‘<g>Castles and Abbeys</g>,’ far and near;
Pile upon pile, let their fabrics rise,
Darkening the earth, and mocking the skies;
Lifting their turrets so haughtily--
Boasting their grandeur--but what care I?
Buttress and bastion, cloister and hall--
_I conquer them all--I conquer them all!_”

VII.--<g>The Refectory.</g>[186]--Of this building enough remains to show, that, in their palmy days, the Abbots of Tinterne had a truly noble hall for their private and state entertainments. Of refectories in general, some account has been already given at page 51 of this volume. Of the style of architecture employed in this dining-hall, the numerous windows, with their mullioned partitions, tall shafts, and foliated arches, face-shafts, and corbel heads along the walls, from which sprang the lofty groined vault that covered and connected the whole, present a tolerably distinct picture.

“Along the roof a maze of mouldings slim,
Like veins that o’er the hand of lady wind,
Embraced in closing arms the key-stone trim,
With hieroglyphs and cyphers quaint combined,
The riddling art that charmed the Gothic mind.”

With regard to the minor details, we may notice the <g>dole</g>, a small double aperture, near the archway on the left; and on the opposite side, is another door through which the dishes were handed in from the kitchen. Near the dole is a low-arched doorway in the eastern wall, showing the passage by which communication was kept up with the adjoining offices, the hospitium, the locutorium, and the dormitories. The situation of the reading-desk, or lectern, will be seen by referring to the new <g>plan</g> of the abbey here introduced; and this closes our notice of the engraved illustrations.

* * * * *

“On the whole,” says Grose, summing up his observations on Tinterne, “though this monastery is undoubtedly light and elegant, it wants that gloomy solemnity so essential to religious ruins; it wants those yawning vaults and dreary recesses, which strike the beholder with religious awe--make him almost shudder at entering them, and call into his mind all the tales of the nursery. Here, at one cast of the eye, the whole is comprehended, nothing is left for the spectator to guess or explore; and this defect is increased by the ill-placed neatness of the poor people who show the building, and by whose absurd labour the ground is covered over by a turf, as even and trim as that of a bowling-green, which gives the building more the air of an artificial ruin in a garden, than that of an ancient decayed <g>abbey</g>.”

“How unlike,” he adds, “the beautiful description of the poet!--

‘Half-buried there lies many a broken bust,
And obelisk and urn, o’erthrown by time,
And many a cherub here descends in dust,
From the rent roof and portico sublime;
Where reverend shrines in Gothic grandeur stood,
The nettle or the noxious nightshade spreads;
And ashlings, wafted from the neighbouring wood,
Through the worn turrets wave their trembling heads.’”

These objections have been repeated by other writers of unquestionable taste; but we may venture to predict, that among the numerous strangers who annually resort to these deserted shrines, few will return home without expressions of unqualified admiration of “Tinterne, as it is.” The care employed by its noble owner in arresting the progress of decay, is creditable to his taste and reverence for antiquity. Had these ruins been consigned, as some would have had them, to the wasting hand of time, their vaulted wonders would long ere now have fallen piecemeal into the area beneath; but wherever a stone is observed to be losing its hold, the hand of art is immediately applied to restore it to its original place: and thus, what might have passed away in a few inclement seasons, has been propped up and secured for the delight of many generations to come.

And lo, these mouldering fragments to sustain,
Her graceful network nature’s hand hath hung;
Bound every arch with a supporting chain,
And round each wall her living verdure flung;
And o’er the floor that sepulchres the dead--
The saints and heroes of departed years;
The flower of memory lifts its modest head,
And morning sheds her tributary tears.--_W.B._

* * * * *

<g>Poetical Votaries.</g>--Having quoted so largely from chroniclers and other prose writers in the preceding pages, we must not quit the subject of Tinterne Abbey, without selecting a few stanzas from those minstrels who have sought and found inspiration on the spot. Wordsworth, from whose poem on the Wye we have already quoted, addresses the following

<g>Lines to a Cistercian Monastery.</g>

‘Here man more purely lives, less oft doth fall,
More promptly rises, walks with nicer heed,
More safely rests, dies happier; is freed
Earlier from cleansing fires, and gains withal
A brighter crown.’ On yon <g>Cistercian</g> wall
_That_ confident assurance may be read;
And, to like shelter, from the world have fled
Increasing multitudes. The potent call
Doubtless shall cheat full oft the heart’s desire;
Yet, while the rugged age on pliant knee
Vows to rapt Fancy humble fealty,
A gentler life spreads round the holy spires;
Where’er they rise the sylvan waste retires,
And aëry harvests crown the fertile lea.

<g>Tinterne Abbey on the Wye.</g>

Sudden the change; at once to tread
The grass-grown mansions of the dead.
Awful to feeling, where, immense,
Rose ruin’d grey magnificence;
The fair wrought shaft all ivy-bound,
The tow’ring arch with foliage crowned,
That trembles on its brow sublime,
Triumphant o’er the spoils of time.
There, grasping all the eye beheld,
Thought into mingling anguish swell’d,
And checked the wild excursive wing,
O’er dust or bones of priest or king;
Or rais’d some <g>Strongbow</g> warrior’s ghost,
To shout before his banner’d host.
But all was still. The chequered floor
Shall echo to the step no more;
No airy roof the strain prolong,
Of vesper chant or choral song--
<g>Tinterne</g>! thy name shall hence sustain
A thousand raptures in my brain;
Joys, full of soul, all strength, all eye,
That cannot fade, that cannot die.--_Bloomfield._

<g>Evening at Tinterne Abbey.</g>

<g>A pilgrim</g>, at the vesper hour,
I stood by Tinterne’s hallowed tower;
While o’er the walls, in golden hue,
The setting sun its farewell threw;
Then, paling slowly, flushed and fled,
Like a smile from the cheek of the recent dead.

* * * * *

<g>’Tis night</g>--on the ivy-mantled walls
The shadows deepen, and darkness falls;
And forth from his roost, in the fretted aisle,
The solemn owl wheels round the pile;
But no lighted shrine, no vesper-song,
Is seen, or heard, these aisles among;
For hymnless now the day returns,
And voiceless sets on their nameless urns;
Nor laud, nor chant, nor matin chime,
Retard the fleeting steps of time.

* * * * *

<g>The Shrine</g>, from which the anthem rushed,
When evening glowed, or morning blushed,
Like them, who reared the pile on high--
A landmark pointing to the sky;
Like them, by slow and sure decay,
That shrine is crumbling o’er their clay.--_W.B._, 1848.

<g>The Abbey by Moonlight.</g>

I tread the moonlit <g>abbey</g>! Oh, my soul,
How nobly art thou struggling to be free,
Spurning the temple’s, and the world’s control,
And feeling most inadequate to thee
The loftiest dome, the grandest scenery;
O’er views that would oppress thee or appal,
Rising, like light bark o’er the mounting sea;
And where, if weak or mortal thou wouldst fall,
Expanding to survey and compass more than all!

<g>Palace of Piety</g>! Devotion here
Should wear a crownèd angel’s robe of white,
And antedate the ardours of a sphere,
Where all is tranquil as this noon of night!
The moon--the regal moon--intensely bright,
Shines through the roseate window of the west;
Each shaft, an artificial stalactite
Of pendent stone, with slumber seems oppressed,
Or with a charmèd dream of peaceful rapture blessed.

And through thy lofty arch, a single star
Is gazing from a depth of spotless blue,
As if to learn how soft thy splendours are,
And feel them deeply, as I fain would do!
While now supine upon thy pave of dew
I let thy loveliness my soul pervade,
And pass with unimpeded influence through
Its quiet depths, like moonlight through thy shade,
To haunt with beauty still that shrine of hopes decayed.

Forgive me, <g>abbey</g> of the watered vale--
Forgive that, when I feel my spirit swell
With an unwonted energy, I fail
To hymn thy desolated glories well!
Not yet the chrysalis has burst its shell--
Not yet expanded its immortal wings;
The restless rudiments of vast powers tell
The soul a deathless thing; from earth she springs,
But fast and feebly falls, the while of thee she sings.
_J. C. Earle, St. Edmund’s Hall, Oxford._

<g>Tinterne Vesper-Hymn.</g>

Like crimson on the dimpled Wye
Sleeps the glowing summer sky;
O’er the landscape, widely thrown,
Belted rock, and mountain cone;
Hamlet, tower, and haunted stream,
Are basking in the vesper-beam;
And holy <g>friars</g>, robed in white,
Cross them in the waning light--AVE MARIA!

Now, along the abbey walls,
Soft the purple _gloaming_ falls;
Aloft, on every turret’s height,
In the dim and doubtful light,
Here retiring, there advancing,
Weeds are waving, wings are glancing,
And yon effigies of stone
Seem to hail the vesper-tone--AVE MARIA!

Deeper yet, and deeper still,
From winding stream, and wooded hill,
Shadowy cliff and rippling _weir_,
Nature’s music fills the ear;
Notes of mingling praise and prayer
Float along the solemn air,
Where, from cloistered arches dim,
Swells the everlasting hymn--AVE MARIA!

Hark, ’tis midnight! but, unsleeping,
Here their faithful vigil keeping;
Pale <g>white friars</g> raise again,
In lengthened chant, the solemn strain!
Hark! throughout the sacred dwelling,
High the mingled notes are swelling;
Angels, stooping from the sky,
Bear the sacrifice on high--AVE MARIA!--_W. B._ 1849.

<g>Appendix.</g>

Of the Abbots of Tinterne the historical notices are very scanty. The following occur in the “Parliamentary Writs,” by Sir Francis Palgrave:--[187]

<g>A.D.</g> 1294.--<g>Abbas de Tynterne</g> is summoned to a council of the
clergy, to be held before the <g>King</g> in person, at Westminster, on
the Feast of <g>St. Matthias</g> the Apostle, on the twenty-first day of
September, and twenty-second of <g>Edward</g> I. Again--

1295.--The <g>Abbas de Tynterne</g> is summoned to Parliament at
Westminster, on Sunday next after the feast of <g>St. Martin</g>,
thirteenth day of October, and twenty-third year of the reign of
<g>Edward</g> I., prorogued to Sunday next, before the Feast of <g>St. Andrew</g>
the Apostle, the twenty-seventh of November. Thirdly--

1296.--Summoned to Parliament at <g>Bury St. Edmund’s</g>, on the morrow
of <g>All-Souls</g>, November the third day, and twenty-fourth year of the
reign of <g>Edward</g> I.

1300.--<g>Abbas de Tynterne</g>--Letter of Credence addressed to him
concerning the expedition against the <g>Scots</g>--at Blith, the
seventeenth day of January, and twenty-eighth year of the reign of
<g>Edward</g> I. Again, the same year, the <g>abbot</g> was summoned to
Parliament in London, on the second Sunday in <g>Lent</g>, being the sixth
day of March.

1301.--<g>Abbas de Tynterne</g> is summoned to Parliament at <g>Lincoln</g>--in
eight days of <g>St. Hilary</g>--the twentieth day of January, and
twenty-eighth year of the reign aforesaid.

1305.--Summoned to Parliament at Westminster, on Tuesday, in
fifteen days of the <g>Purification</g>, the sixteenth of February;
afterwards prorogued to Sunday next, after the Feast of <g>St.
Matthias</g> the Apostle, the twenty-eighth day of February--but to
which he was not resummoned--and thirty-third year of the reign of
<g>Edward</g> I.

1316.--<g>Abbas de Tynterne</g>, certified pursuant to writ, tested at
Clipston, March the fifth, as one of the lords of the township of
<g>Acle</g>,[188] in the county of Norfolk, in the ninth year of the reign
of <g>Edward</g> II.

1316.--<g>Johannes de Tynterne</g>, certified in like manner, as holding
part of the burgh of <g>Lyme-Regis</g>, in the county of Dorset, in the
ninth year of the reign of <g>Edward</g> II.

* * * * *

The following is the original document referred to in various passages of the foregoing articles on Chepstow and Tinterne:--

<g>Genealogia</g> Fundatoris (Ex MS. Codice in Bibl. Cottoniana [sub
Effigie Vitellii, F. 4], fol. 7).

<g>Gunnora</g> Comitissa Normanniæ duas habuit sorores, una Turulpho de
Ponte-Adamaro conjuncta erat in matrimonio, et procreavit <g>Humfridum</g>
de Vetulis qui fuit pater <g>Rogeri</g> de Bellomonte, ex quo comites de
Warwike et Leicestriæ processerunt.

<g>Turketillus</g> fuit frater istius Turulphi, cujus filius Hasculfus de
Harecurt aliam sororem predictæ Comitissæ Gunnoræ con ... erat duos
procreavit filios; scilicet <g>Walterum</g> de Giffard, primogenitum, qui
alium Walterum procreavit, et dictus fuit Walterius Giffard
secundus. Rohesia, una sororum Walteri (duas plures enim habuit)
conjuncta in matrimonio <g>Ricardo</g> filio comitis <g>Gisleberti</g>, qui in re
militari, tempore Conquestoris omnes sui temporis magnates
præcessit. Prædicta Rohesia supervixit et renupta <g>Eudoni</g>, dapifero
Regis Normanniæ qui construxit castrum Colecestriæ, cum cœnobio, in
honore Sancti Johannis, ubi sepultus fuit, cum conjuge sua, tempore
<g>Henrici</g> primi. Margareta filia eorum nupta fuit <g>Willielmo</g> de
Mandevill, et fuit mater <g>Gaufredi</g> filii comitis Essexiæ et jure
matris, Normanniæ dapifer. Prædictus <g>Ricardus</g> apud sanctum <g>Neotum</g>
jacet sepultus. Huic rex Willielmus concessit baroniam <g>De Clare</g>,
villam verò cum castello de Tunbridge, de Archiepiscopo
Cantuariensi, pro aliis terris in Normannia, perquisivit in
excambium. <g>Baldwinus</g>, frater istius Ricardi, Willielmum, Robertum,
et Ricardum, cum tribus sororibus genuit. Ex prædicta <g>Rohesia</g> hanc
sobolem procreavit Ricardus, <g>Rogerus</g> natu secundus terras patris
sui in Normannia adeptus est; <g>Walterus dominium Wenciæ inferioris,
in Wallia, qui construxit Abbatiam de Tinterna, anno Domini</g> MCXXXI;
<g>obiit sine prole</g>.[189]

The <g>Deed</g>, by which the privileges originally granted by the founders were confirmed and completed by Roger Bigod, after the lapse of a hundred and seven years, is expressed in the following terms:--

<g>Rogerus le Bygod Comes Norfolciæ</g>, et Mareschallus Angliæ, Salutem in Domino. Noverit universitas vestra me intuitu Dei et pro salute animæ nostræ, et animarum antecessorum nostrorum, et hæredum nostrorum, concessisse et confirmasse Deo et ecclesiæ beatæ <g>Mariæ de Tinterna</g>, Abbati et monachis et eorum successoribus ibidem Deo servientibus, in liberam puram et perpetuam elemosynam, omnes terras et possessiones, libertates, et liberas consuetudines subscriptas quas habent ex donis antecessorum nostrorum et aliorum fundatorum seu donatorum, sive ex dono nostro--videlicet: Totam hayam de <g>Porcassek</g>, et ex altera parte co opertorium nemoris [~c] omnibus pertinentiis suis in bosco et plano, et quicquid habet in Pentirk de tenementis terris redditibus boscis et planis [~c] aliis libertatibus suis et totam terram de <g>Modisgat</g> [~c] omnibus suis pertinentiis--videlicet: cum pastura ovium et aliorum animalium suorum ubique in _chacia_ nostra de <g>Tudenham</g>, et de Subbosco in dictu chacia quicquid eis necessarium fuerit ad ardendum et ad _hayas_ claudendas, etc. His testibus domino Joanne le Bÿgod fratre meo: Dom. Joanne le Bÿgod <g>Stocton</g>: Nicholao de <g>Kingeston</g>, militibus: Elya de Aylbreton, tunc Seneschallo meo de <g>Strugull</g>: Philippe de <g>Mora</g>: Rogero de <g>Sancto Mauro</g>: Willielmo de <g>Dynam</g>: Andreæ de <g>Bellocampo</g>, et aliis.

Datum apud <g>Modesgat</g>, quarto die Augusti, <g>anno Domini</g> M.CCCI.

* * * * *

AUTHORITIES quoted or referred to in the preceding article on
Tinterne Abbey and its vicinity:--Dugdale’s Monasticon and
Baronage--Thomas’s Tinterne--Camden--Giraldus Cambrensis--Robert of
Gloucester--Matthew Paris--William of Worcester--Fosbroke’s British
Monachism--Dallaway’s Arts--Reed--Barber--Mores Catholici--Life of
St. Bernard--French Monastic Writers--Annales et Usus
Cistercienses--Morton’s Monastic Annals--Nicolson’s History--West’s
Furness--Wonders and Traditions of Wales--Bp.
Godwin--Burnet--Pictorial Hist. of Engl.--Sir H. Ellis’s Original
Letters--Wilkins’s Concilia--Macaulay’s History--Blunt’s Sketch of
the Reformation--Latimer’s Sermons--Madden’s
Penalties--Warton--Taylor’s Index Monast.--Heraldic
Enquiries--Henniker--Cowel--Chronicles of England--Local historians
and poets--Gilpin--Heath--Barber--Thomas, whose work on “Tinterne
and its Environs” is the best hand-book that has yet appeared on
this locality--Notes taken by the Editor during a Tour on the
Wye--Hints and Suggestions from Correspondents, etc.

On taking leave of Tinterne, we shall here introduce a short notice of--

<g>Goodrich Castle</g>, once a stronghold of the Marshalls, whose names have been so often recorded in connection with the abbey. It stands on a finely wooded promontory, round which the river Wye flows in a semicircular direction. By whom it was originally founded is unknown, though the near affinity of its name to that of ‘<g>Godricus Dux</g>,’ who occurs as a witness to two charters granted by King <g>Canute</g> to the abbey of <g>Hulm</g>, has given birth to a not improbable conjecture that he was the founder. The <g>Keep</g> is evidently of a date antecedent to the Conquest; but the surrounding works are principally Norman, though various additions and alterations may be distinguished as the workmanship of different periods, even down to the time of Henry VI.

In its general outline, this castle forms a parallelogram, with a round tower at each angle, and a square ‘keep’ standing in the south-west part of the enclosed area. The common thickness of the exterior walls is somewhat more than seven feet; the length of the longest sides--that is, those towards the south-east and north-west, including the projections of the towers--is about 176 feet; and that of the south-west and north-east sides about 152 feet.

<g>The keep</g> stands somewhat in the same manner as those of Porchester, Pevensey, and Castleton, close to the outward wall of the castle; and, like them, it has no window on the outside next the country. It had evidently three rooms or floors, one above the other; all of them, however, were very small, being only fourteen feet and a half square; and the room on the first floor had no sort of internal communication with the dungeon beneath--which had not even a single loophole for light and air, but was connected by a very narrow passage to a still smaller dungeon, strongly secured under the platform belonging to the steps of the entrance, and having a very small air-hole on the same side. “The original windows are Saxon; that in the middle of the upper story seems to have remained just as it was from the very first, without any alteration; and the manner in which the two large side columns stand, somewhat _within_ the arch, is consistent with the fashion adopted by the Saxons, and continued even to the time of Edward the Confessor. The large zigzag ornament on each side, between the columns, is in the rude form in which it was generally used by the early Saxons; and so also is that of the zigzag moulding, or band, that is carried by way of ornament quite across the tower, just under the window; and it is very remarkable, that the middle projecting buttress is carried no higher than this ornament.”[190]--See the preceding wood-cut.

The window in the apartment beneath is similar in its general construction; but the columns which support the arch are somewhat higher, and a semicircular moulding of zigzag is carried beneath the arch; the middle part of the window, however, has been altered--a stone frame for glass having been inserted, of the style and age of Henry the Sixth, and probably in the time of the celebrated Earl Talbot, whom tradition represents as having his <g>own chamber</g> in this tower. In the second apartment is a fire-hearth, and, in an angle of the wall, a circular staircase leads to the upper story. “To this staircase is a most remarkable doorway; it has one large transom stone, as if to aid the arch to support the wall above, and in this respect it resembles several other Saxon structures, in which this singular fashion seems to have been uniformly adopted, until it became gradually altered by the introduction of a flattish _under-arch_, substituted in the room of the transom stone.”[191]

<g>The principal entrance</g> was by a flight of steps on one side, distinct from the main building, and ascending to a platform before the doorway leading to the second chamber. The entrance to the dungeon, or lower apartment, was under “a very remarkable sort of pointed arch, formed of flat sides, which seems, from the appearance of the wall around it, and from its peculiar style, to have been inserted many ages after the tower was built, and in the time of <g>Edward</g> III.; a suspicion that appears to be most strongly confirmed, by the circumstance, that about the twenty-second year of Edward the Third, Richard Talbot, its then lord, obtained the royal license[192] for having in his castle a prison for male-factors, having also the cognizance of pleas of the crown, &c., within his lordship of Irchinfield. The bottom of the keep-tower would undoubtedly, as usual, be the place where such a prison would be established; and on that occasion it should seem that this new and strong door-frame was first constructed, whilst the very annexation of the lordship of Irchinfield, or Urchenfield, to the possession of this keep-tower, both of which his lordship appears to have been possessed of before this license was granted, shows the exceedingly high antiquity of this castle, since Urchenfield was, indeed, the very place where St. Dubricius founded his college of Religious, about A.D. 512, to live, like the original Eastern recluses, by the work of their own hands.”[193] The body of the keep is an exact square of twenty-nine feet.

<g>In</g> describing the additions made to this fortress in the Norman times, and during the successive reigns to the time of Henry the Sixth, we shall follow Mr. King, and begin with the strongly-fortified <g>entrance</g>, which, commencing between two semicircular towers of equal dimensions, near the east angle, was continued under a dark vaulted passage, to an extent of fifty feet. “Immediately before the entrance, and within the space enclosed by the fosse, was a very deep pit, hewn out of the solid rock, formerly crossed by a drawbridge, which is now gone, but which evidently appears to have exactly fitted, and to have closed, when drawn up, the whole front of the gateway between the towers. About eleven feet within the passage was a massive gate, the strong iron hinges of which still remain: this gate and the drawbridge were defended on each side by loopholes, and overhead by rows of machicolations in the vaulting. Six feet and a half beyond this was a portcullis, and about seven feet further a second portcullis; the space between these was again protected by loopholes and machicolations. About two feet more inward was another strong gate, and five feet and a half beyond this, on the right, a small door leading to a long narrow gallery, only three feet wide, formed in the thickness of the wall, and which was the means of access to the loopholes in the eastern tower, as well as to some others that commanded the brow of the steep precipice towards the north-east.” These works appear to have been thought sufficient for general defence; but a resource was ingeniously contrived for greater security, in case they had all been forced: “for a little further on are many stone projections in the wall on each side, like pilasters, manifestly designed for inserting great beams of timber within them, like bars, from one side of the passage, which was about nine feet ten inches wide, to the other, so as to form a strong barricade, with earth or stones between the rows of timber, which would in a short time, and with rapidity, form a strong massy wall.” Beyond these the passage opened into the great inner court of the Castle.

<g>Chapel.</g>--The ruins of the chapel run parallel with the entrance on the left; the style of the broken ornaments, and particularly of those about its great window, show this to have been repaired and adorned even so late as the reign of Henry the Seventh. In one part is a very remarkable niche, and near it a smaller one, for holy water. On the opposite side is also another niche for the same purpose. Beneath the chapel was a deep vault, and over it a chamber, with a fireplace, which still appears projecting from the wall. Adjoining the chapel, and near the entrance, is a small octagonal watch-tower, which rises above the other buildings, and commands a fine view over the surrounding country.

The buildings between the chapel and the south or garrison tower, to the upper part of which a passage, or covered-way, led along the top of the outer wall, are mostly in ruins. Here appear to have been the stables. The garrison tower adjoins the entrance to the keep; its foundation is a square of about thirty-six feet; but the three outward angles diminish as they ascend, and form triangular buttresses, so that the upper part of the tower is circular. The walls are at least eight feet in thickness. The entrances to this tower were so continued, that there was access to it from every part of the walls. It contained three floors, and in each of them a fire-hearth. The interior forms an irregular octagon, about twenty feet in diameter from the angles, and about seventeen from side to side.

<g>Great Tower.</g>--The wall that extended between the keep and the west tower is in ruins. This tower, which is also greatly dilapidated, appears of more modern construction than the former, and is probably of the time of the Edwards. Its outward form is circular; but the interior is somewhat of an octangular figure, but very irregular, its general dimensions being thirty-three feet long, and twenty-five feet broad. In this appears to have been the great <g>kitchen</g>; the fireplace is still distinguishable, with a recess and loophole on each side. Here was a small doorway, or sally-port, communicating with a sort of outer _ballium_, which runs on the north-west side, and was enclosed by an outer wall. On this side also, and ranging between the west tower and the north or Ladies’ tower, were the state apartments.

<g>The Hall</g> was a magnificent room of the time of Edward the First, as clearly appears from the style and architecture of its remains, and particularly from its long, slender, and narrow windows. This apartment was sixty-five feet long, and twenty-eight feet broad. Some years ago it contained a single beam of oak, “without knot or knarle,” sixty-six feet long, and nearly two feet square throughout its whole length. On the north-west side is the great fireplace; and behind it, projecting into the outer <g>ballium</g>, a vast mass of solid stonework, or buttress, which, in its upper part, appears to have had some little apartment, or guard-chamber. The hall communicated towards the north with a kind of withdrawing or retiring room, about twenty-nine feet by seventeen and a half, in which appears to have been a window looking into the hall. From this second apartment, a passage led into what seems to have been the great

<g>State-room</g>, which was fifty-five feet and a half long by twenty broad. At the upper end, or towards the north, are two beautiful pointed arches, springing from a well-wrought octagon pillar in the middle of the apartment, and resting on corbels at the sides. Here seem to have been two large windows; but the walls are so much broken, or closely mantled with ivy, that this cannot with certainty be affirmed. The architecture of this part of the building is of the time of <g>Henry</g> the Fifth or Sixth. At the north angle of this room is an opening leading into the north or <g>Ladies’ tower</g>, which is so situated on the brow of a high and steep precipice, as to be the most defensible part of the castle. From the apartment within, which is a neat octagon, about fifteen feet in diameter, is a most beautiful view over the adjacent country. From the common appellation of this tower, there can be little doubt of its having been appropriated as a “Ladies’ bower.” Beyond the state-room, in the north-east wall, is a square recess and loophole, supposed to have been formed for the lodging and seat of the warden.

<g>Such</g> was the original construction of Goodrich Castle; but almost every part has yielded to the iron tooth of age, and to the more speedy demolition of war. The ruins, however, are extremely grand; the massive towers are finely mantled with ivy; and even the great moat is embellished with the luxuriant foliage of tall forest-trees. From the adjoining woods the crumbling turrets have a very striking and interesting effect; and seen from the water, the view has been truly characterized as “one of the grandest upon the Wye.”

Whoever was the original founder of this Castle, “whether Godricus Dux, who witnessed King <g>Canute’s</g> charters, or any chieftain prior to him,” it is certain that the earliest authenticated record yet discovered, is of A.D. 1204, when it was given by “King John to William Strigul, Earl <g>Marshall</g>, to hold by the service of two knights’ fees.” His son Walter, Earl of Pembroke--as noticed in a former page of this volume--died here in December, 1245. It was afterwards conveyed by a female to William de <g>Valentia</g>, Earl of Pembroke, whose third son, Aymer de Valence, became his heir, and was murdered in France in 1323. From him it passed to the Talbots, by the marriage of Elizabeth Comyn, daughter of Joan, his second sister, with Sir Richard, afterwards Lord Talbot, who procured the license from Edward the Third to have a prison here. This Richard was a renowned soldier and statesman; and is thought to have expended a considerable part of the ransoms, obtained from his prisoners taken in the French wars, on the reparation and improvement of Goodrich Castle. His descendant, John Talbot, the great Earl of Shrewsbury, who was killed at the battle of Castillon, in the year 1453, was first buried at Rouen; and in enumeration of his titles on the monument raised to his memory, he is styled “Lord of Goderich and Orchenfield.” His successors were equally distinguished for bravery, and were frequently employed in offices of great trust. George,[194] the sixth earl, had the custody of Mary, Queen of Scots, committed to his charge. That these places were really alienated is improbable, as Gilbert, seventh Earl of Shrewsbury, was in possession of this castle and manor at the period of his death in the 14th of James the First. Elizabeth, his second daughter and co-heiress, conveyed them in marriage to Henry de Grey, Earl of Kent, in whose family they continued till the year 1740, when, on the death of Henry, Duke of Kent, they were sold to Admiral Griffin.

In the civil wars between Charles I. and his Parliament, Goodrich Castle was alternately possessed by both parties. It was first seized by the Parliamentary army; but afterwards fell into the hands of the Royalists, who sustained a siege of nearly six weeks against Colonel Birch. The colonel began the siege on the 22nd of June, 1646. On the third of August, as appears from Whitelocke, “Colonel Birch entered some of the works of Gotherich Castle, whereupon the garrison hung out a white flag for parley, which Birch refused, and went on storming, until they all submitted to mercy. In the castle, besides the governor, were 50 gentlemen and 120 soldiers, with arms, ammunition, and provisions.” On the twenty-fifth the Parliament gave orders that the Countess of Kent should be informed that there was a _necessity_ for demolishing the castle; and that “on the demolishing thereof, satisfaction should be made to her. On the first of March following, they finally resolved that the castle should be totally disgarrisoned, and _slighted_. The breaches of the Ladies’ tower, which is the most effectually ruined, were said to have been chiefly occasioned by the battering of the cannon during the siege.”[195]

RAGLAN CASTLE,

<g>Monmouthshire.</g>

“<g>Stranger</g>! ponder here awhile;
Pause in <g>Raglan’s</g> ruined pile;
All that wealth and power, combined,
With skill to plan, and taste refined,
To rear a structure fit to be
The home of England’s <g>Chivalry</g>,
Was lavished here!--where, met in hall,
Mailed <g>Barons</g> kept their festival;
The night in lordly wassail spent--
The day in tilt and tournament:
Yet still, when England’s woes began,
Were first to arm and lead the van;
To shield the <g>Monarch</g> in his need,
In Freedom’s glorious cause to bleed;
To Loyalty surrendering all--
Then, with their falling <g>King</g> to fall!”

<g>The Castle of Raglan</g> is one of the most picturesque ruins in the kingdom, and closely associated with a momentous period of our national annals. Though roofless, tenantless, and dismantled, it still presents a majestic and venerable aspect. No visitor of taste or sensibility will ever traverse its spacious but long-deserted halls, without feeling a deep interest in its eventful history.

It was on a bright autumnal evening that we quitted the comfortable little inn, the “Beaufort Arms,” at Raglan, to make our first survey of this baronial stronghold; and at that hour, and season of the year, it was seen through its embowering trees in all its glory. Ascending the gentle eminence on which it stands, we came to the outer gate, or barbican, portions of which still remain, and crossing the _ballium_, now covered with rich verdant pasture, we were received by the intelligent Warden, who conducted us to the majestic gateway, and pointed out to us, as we proceeded, the more imposing features of the Castle, as they alternately met and receded from the eye.

Raglan Castle.]

The vista through the Gateway, taking in the Great Court--once adorned with statues and fountains, but now, like everything around it, abandoned to the weather, is very striking; while the absolute silence which pervades the scene, contrasts forcibly with its ancient stir and splendour, and compels us, while fancy is peopling it with troops of chivalry and their retainers, to exclaim, “Where are they?” A long wooden table with benches, the last symbols of that hospitality for which its noble owners were once conspicuous, stood on the grassy floor. But these were no relics of the ancient banquet-hall, but of a modern festive meeting, when the tenants upon the estates had met to express their attachment to the noble Marquess and his family. The manner in which the kitchen had been refitted for their entertainment, showed that it must have been ‘got up’ in a style not unworthy of its feudal renown; and, “as for the venison,”--

“Finer or fatter
Ne’er ranged in a forest, or smoked on a platter.”

<g>We</g> arrived, however, too late for the feast, though another, a much simpler, and palatable treat awaited us--that which Nature, luxuriating amidst the ruins of Art, had lavishly spread before us. Such piles of masonry, such masses of ivy, were never before brought together! Here and there, indeed, the sturdy ramparts looked through their leafy screen with a sort of ghastly whiteness, like Hobbes’ spectre from behind the yew-tree, or the bones of some enormous skeleton, upon which the kindly hand of Nature had suspended her own green mantle. Nothing could be more strikingly novel and picturesque. Along the vast framework of the castle, on which the wealth and taste of centuries had been employed, until its strength and beauty could receive no farther additions from the hand of man, a straggling forest of vegetation expanded its mingling branches. Under the same leafy covert, from the timid wren to the ill-omened raven, birds of every feather had found a congenial roost. From the sepulchral yew the moping owl looked out upon everything around her as her own domain and cherished inheritance. Over our heads bats performed their swift circles in the still twilight sky; while daws chattered from the ancient keep, as if they had never heard a musket-shot, nor felt the slightest apprehension of being disturbed in their possession. On a lofty spray that overtopped every other tree, a loving thrush serenaded his mate in the fragrant thicket below. Numerous smaller birds, that seemed puzzled from the very abundance of the accommodation where to fix their roost, kept up a constant fluttering amongst the branches; while here and there was heard a bickering of wings and twittering of bills, as if contending for possession of some favourite branch for the night. Surely, we thought, there is room enough here for all; and yet even there--among those spacious green arbours, place and position were as eagerly sought and coveted by the feathered tribes, as by the equally volatile and jealous retainers of a court.

At length all was seemingly adjusted; the stillness of night pervaded the scene; the last shadows of twilight had faded into one common pall; and night, attended by a host of sparkling satellites, took quiet possession of the long line of courts that once swarmed with life and enjoyment.

And now, between the western sky--that still retained some warm lingering traces of sunset--and the donjon tower, mousing owls were seen enjoying their solemn pastime, here swimming lazily through the arched court, then along the battlements, or the margin of the clear glassy moat; then soaring aloft, and settling for a minute or two among the dark ivy; but still returning to make another circle and finding no wings abroad but their own.

The contemplation of this Castle, at any period of the day, is calculated to make a lasting impression; but when the rising moon shot her mellow light through its old shattered casements, and the breeze seemed to waken at the same instant and set all the ivy in motion, the scene became still more impressive. Among the deep shadows that invested the spacious courts, every prominent object was now brought suddenly into view; and, with a little aid from fancy, the waving of plumes, and the flashing of steel armour, seemed distinctly visible on the battlements; while the fragments of crumbling masonry that lay scattered below, as if struck by an enchanter’s wand, presented the semblance of animated groups, that waited only the word of command to start into life and motion. The stillness, too, which but half an hour before had pervaded every court and tower, was succeeded by a soft rustling among the leaves, that now flickered like quicksilver as the moonlight fell upon them, and then lost itself in their massive branches; whilst the shrubs and flowers that grew wild and vigorous in every court, or clambered up the walls and archways, seemed to give forth their mingled odours to the night wind, as it passed wooingly through their leaves, and filled the air with incense.

“We seemed to tread on faëry land;
For, in every thing around us,
We felt the touch of a viewless hand,
And we heard the notes of a seraph band,
Whose magic spell had bound us;
While bright yclad, as in days of yore,
<g>The Knight of Raglan</g> strode before.”

The Pitched-court; the hall of state, with its magnificent bay-window; the chapel; the fountain-court, with the grand staircase on the south side opening upon it; then the elegant portal leading to the grand terrace that overlooks <g>Raglan church</g>, were all traversed in succession, with nothing to distract attention, or disturb the solitude, but the whistle of a night-hawk, or the sound of our own footsteps on the grassy carpet, that now forms the universal ‘pavement’ of these once sumptuous apartments. For over the once tesselated floor, and the tapestried walls, weeds have thrown an oblivious mantle, while--

“Ha, ha!” laughs the Ivy, “old Time to me
Hath given the glory and mastery!
So poets may sing, if it like them well,
From early matins till vesper bell;
And others may list to their minstrelsie--
I’ve a song of my own--so what care I?
Your <g>castles</g>, though stately, and strong, and tall,
_I_ conquer them all--_I conquer them all_!”

But as the faint outline here sketched will be filled up when we take the architectural features of the <g>Castle</g> in detail, we pass on to a few preliminary remarks.

]

<g>Grose</g>, in his ‘Antiquities,’ observes that this castle is of no great antiquity, having been founded, as he conjectures, about the close of the fifteenth century, although many important additions were subsequently added. In the time of Henry VIII., as Leland informs us, Raglan, “yn Middle Venceland [Wentland], was a fair and pleasant castel, with to goodlye parkes adjacent;” and “the laste Lord Herbertes,” as Morgan told him, “builded all the best coffes of the Castle of Raglan.” Camden, in his account of the Silures, or Monmouthshire, notices it very briefly, as “a fair house of the Earl of Worcester’s, built castel-like.”[197]

It is not stated by Grose on what authority he places Raglan Castle among the strongholds erected in the time of Henry VII. His observations can apply only to those portions of it which are comparatively modern. The Citadel, or Yellow Tower of Gwent, is of unquestionable antiquity. In the family history we are told that Sir John Morley, a military knight, who lived in the time of Richard II., resided here as ‘lord of Raglan Castle.’ But postponing this question at present, as one that will be considered more fully when we come to examine the Castle in detail, we shall merely observe that although, as it now appears, the Castle does not indicate any more distant origin than the reign of Henry V., yet traces may be discovered in various portions of towers built, or reconstructed, during every subsequent reign, down to that of <g>Charles</g> I.--with whose fate it is so painfully associated. Owing to the circumstance named, the learned antiquary may discover ‘a disunion of styles;’ but taken as a whole, the Castle of Raglan presents a remarkable harmony of proportions that hides every minute discrepancy, heightens the general effect, and leaves the spectator under a pleasing conviction that, in design and execution, it is the work, not of many, but of one master mind. But to this subject we shall return; and, in the meantime, we proceed to give a brief sketch of