THE time-decayed honours of Rhuddlan frown over the fragments of monastic
greatness, and throw the little dwellings of the village into an
insignificant obscurity by the effect of contrast. The lofty and
substantial towers of this military relic are rendered more conspicuous
by the remarkable flatness of the circumjacent district, and as its
accompaniments are devoid of any picturesque attractions, it relies
wholly on historic and classic recollections for the interest it
uniformly excites. The little place itself, though an ancient
contributary borough, retains nothing of wealth or comfort in its
exterior. It boasts but one tolerable street, a range of warehouses for
the storage of goods landed at the quays, and a handsome bridge of one
large arch, and one auxiliary, erected in 1598. The Clwyd, which flows
below the castle walls, and passes by the town, is navigable by vessels
of small burden up to the wharfs of Rhuddlan, to which fortunate
circumstance the continuance of a modern settlement here is probably to
be attributed.
Near the centre of the town, and on the north side of the high street,
are situated the scanty remains of the hall in which King Edward once
convoked a parliament. They are now incorporated with the gabel of a
cottage; one small doorway and the architrave of a pointed window forming
all the witnesses that can be produced to identify the court in which the
never to be forgotten statute of Rhuddlan was enacted. The late Dean of
St. Asaph caused a tablet to be inserted in the only remaining wall of
the Rhuddlan Council Hall bearing this inscription: “This fragment is the
remains of the building where King Edward the First held his parliament,
in 1283, {101} in which was passed the statute of Rhuddlan, securing to
the principality of Wales its judicial rights and independence.”
The abbey belonged to a monastery of black friars, and was founded about
the year 1268, it stood a little to the south-east of the castle, and its
remains form part of the enclosure of a farmyard. Two pointed arches are
still entire, and an effigy in alto relievo, but much effaced, occupies a
niche in one of the walls. An eminence, called Twt Hill, rises between
the castle and the site of the old abbey. It appears to have been
originally fortified and surrounded by a deep fosse, which embraced the
abbey in its circuit. There is a tradition that it was from this mount
the castle was battered.
[Picture: Rhuddlan Castle; Mostyn; St. Winifred’s Well. London.
Published by T. T. & J. Tegg, Cheapside, Oct. 1st 1832]
The castle of Rhuddlan, its sole surviving monument of grandeur, stands
on a rock overhanging the river Clwyd, and within a short distance of an
ancient British fortress, built by Llewellyn ap Sitsylt, who chose this
as his chief place of residence, at the commencement of the eleventh
century. In the year 1063, when Gryffydd ap Llewellyn was Prince of
North Wales, this fortress was attacked and burned by Harold (afterwards
King of England), son of Godwin, Earl of Kent, in retaliation for
injuries committed by the Welsh upon some of the Saxon borderers. The
Britons soon repaired a hold of so much consequence; it was their asylum
whenever they desired to avoid a conflict with the Saxons, and the
depository of spoils probably courageously, but not honourably, carried
off from the borders. Robert, sirnamed De Rhuddlan from the event, the
nephew and lieutenant of Hugh, Earl of Chester, unable to endure any
longer the incursions of the Rhuddlan men, took a signal vengeance upon
them, and even wrested the fortress out of their hands. He enlarged,
strengthened, and garrisoned the old castle; and having made this his
principal quarters, here received the solicitations and importunities of
Gryffydd ap Cynan for aid against some of his own countrymen. Robert
granted Gryffydd’s request, but learned too late that the interference of
the stranger in allaying domestic quarrels is not only thankless, but
often even multiplies the number of our enemies. The Welsh, who had just
before been at variance with each other, combining all their efforts,
directed their united power against Robert, burned his castle to the
ground, slew numbers of his men, and compelled him to consult his safety
by flight.
The great fortress of Rhuddlan, which still exhibits the powerful
resources of the founder, was erected by Henry the Second, from the very
foundation, and is completely Norman in its character. It is built of
red stone, in a quadrangular form: the curtain walls are flanked by six
enormous rounders, the walls of which are nine feet in thickness, having
but few loops or arrow slits. One of these, distinguished by the name of
the king’s tower, is still entire, as well as three of the others. In
fact, such is the amazing strength and thickness of the walls, the
tenacity of the mortar with which they are cemented so great, the freedom
from doors, windows, or any weakening aperture so complete, that the
ruins will not probably present a farther appearance of decay for
centuries to come. It is even a matter of uncertainty where the
principal entrance was situated, the aperture between the two
north-western turrets resembling, at this day, an accidental breach of
small extent, more than the entrance of so vast a pile. Security alone
appears to have been consulted by the founder; a sortie from the castle
was impracticable; the intromission of light was even jealously
permitted, and the design seems to express a great prison erected to
immure some royal captive for the residue of his life.
Hugh Beauchamp was either grantee or governor, in the year 1169, when
Owen Gwynedd and his brother Cadwalader, assisted by Rhys ap Gryffydd,
sat down before the walls, and after a close blockade of two months
continuance, compelled the famished garrison to surrender. It reverted
again in some peaceful moment to the English; but the Welsh having driven
King John almost wholly from the principality, compelled this, his last
fortress in their country, to give way to the vigorous assaults of
Llewellyn ap Jorwerth in the year 1214.
From the expulsion of King John the Welsh continued in quiet possession
of this border castle, until Llewellyn ap Gryffydd, declining to do
homage to Edward the First at Chester, called down the vengeance of that
great king upon his fellow countrymen. Edward, at the head of a powerful
army immediately directed a march into Wales, when he laid the country
waste, and seizing Rhuddlan, amongst other places of strength, placed a
strong garrison within it. Here Edward resided for some time, and during
his sojourn taught the too credulous Welsh that candour is not always a
quality inseparable from the character of princes. He here again
performed the conjurer who was to call up a prince of British birth,
their fellow countryman, to preside over the Welsh. Here he enacted his
politic statute, and here his queen gave birth to a princess, the second
of the royal race then born in Wales. {104} The possession of Rhuddlan
was included in the grant extorted from Richard the Second by the
faithless Percy, who detained the injured monarch here to dine, while he
was conveying him to Flint to deliver to his rival.
In the civil wars Rhuddlan held out for the king with that zeal which
characterized the loyalty of the ancient Britons, through all that
unnatural and bloody conflict. And the Cromwelians, as a further
security to their usurpation, dismantled every castle that had rendered
itself conspicuous in the royal cause. In this general devastation the
castle of Rhuddlan shared, being dismantled in the month of December,
1646.
Morfa Rhuddlan, or Rhuddlan Marsh, is an extensive tract lying between
the town and the sea, and possessing a melancholy notoriety in the
history of Wales. Here a most desperate and bloody battle was fought
between the ancient Britons, headed by Caradoc, and the Saxons under
Offa, King of Mercia, in which the former were defeated with frightful
loss, and their king and general slain upon the field. The Saxons gave
no quarter to those that fell into their hands after the battle, and even
carried their barbarous revenge still farther, by the cowardly
assassination of all the children of their enemies who were so
unfortunate as to become their captives. There is a pathetic air,
preserved in the relics of Welsh poetry, which was composed by the bards
upon the death of the brave Caradoc. It possesses a remarkable
solemnity, simplicity, and plaintive harmony. The custom of celebrating
the fame of heroes, who fell in defence of their country, is of very
ancient date in other nations as well as in Cambria. “Celtæ Hymnorum
suorum argumentum faciunt, viros qui in præliis fortiter pugnantes
occubuerunt.” Ælian.