A potent, grave, and reverend signior.
It reminds one of some parts of Don Quixote and of Rabelais--all but the
sermon at the close--which may have been imitated from one of the old
“Mysteries” then in vogue. But to these “Apophthegms” and Dr. Bayly, the
“martial chaplain” of the household, we may return in a subsequent
portion of the work. In the meantime, we shall take a survey of Raglan
Castle, as it now appears, and then proceed to a narrative of the Royal
Visits.
<g>Architectural Details.</g>--Of the strength, beauty, and attractions of this
stronghold--which we are now to examine with some degree of
minuteness--a quaint old poet[232] has thus recorded his admiration:--
A famous Castle fine
That <g>Raglan</g> hight, stands moated almost round;
Made of free-stone, upreight, as straight as line,
Whose workmanship in beauty doth abound,
With curious knots, wrought all with edged tool:
The stately Tower that looks o’er pond and poole;
The fountaine trim, that runs both day and night,
Doth yeald in shew a rare and noble sight.
This description, of course, applies to times long before the guns of
Fairfax had made a breach in the Yellow Tower; and while the Castle,
with all its regal appendages, was the cherished abode of its
illustrious owner--a repertorium of the fine arts, and the seat of
unbounded hospitality. At no period of its history, however--not even
while it was inhabited by worth and beauty, enriched with the precious
works of art, and seemed to enclose within its walls an earthly
paradise--at no period did it ever present so many features to fascinate
the mind and eye of Taste as at this moment.
And “Why is it”--inquires one of the ablest writers of the day--“Why is
it that we feel so poetical a sympathy with the great men of ages long
past? Why do <g>castles</g> please most when they are dismantled, and palaces
when they are in ruins? Why is an old battle-field rather improved than
otherwise by a crop of standing corn? Because we can _imagine_ nobler
things than we can _see_. Because the heroic deed, not vile flesh and
blood, is the impersonation of the hero. We should be rather displeased
at meeting the Iron Duke walking to a pedometer on the field of
Waterloo. We would doubt whether on the plain of Marathon we could be
reconciled even to the ghost of Miltiades. Greatness shines more
brightly when it is abstracted from the man.”
We will now, as proposed, take the building in detail, beginning with
the grand entrance, and proceeding onward, until we have completed the
circuit of the walls, the inner apartments, battlements, terraces, and
outworks. On these prominent features we shall dilate with more or less
minuteness according to the interest of the subject--but always
directing the reader’s attention more especially to those portions which
have been chosen as subjects of illustration.
<g>Grand Entrance.</g>--Here a magnificent and imposing spectacle bursts upon
the eye--three pentagonal towers, crowned with battlements, and bearing
on their mutilated outline marks of the cannon-shot directed against it
by the besiegers. These, however, are less defaced than any other
portions of the ruin, and are now invested with a luxuriant mantle of
ivy, lichen, and parasitical plants, as if Nature interposed to protect
the venerable edifice from further outrage and decay. In the gateway are
grooves for two portcullises. The two pentagonal towers on the right and
left were appropriated to the inferior offices of the castle.
Immediately behind these were rooms occupied by the garrison, or
household troops. Adjoining these on the right, was the third pentagonal
tower, called the Closet Tower; and on the left again were the officers’
apartments, which were demolished during the operations of the siege.
<g>Gateway.</g>--Between the two foremost of the pentagonal towers,
above-named, the great portal--a work of imposing strength and fine
gothic proportions--opens into the second court. Halting under the
archway, the curious visitor will examine, with mingled pleasure and
surprise, the fine architectural details; the groined ceiling; its lofty
span; its fine proportions, in which grace, strength, and beauty are
eminently combined: while the deep grooves, worn smooth by the working
of the double portcullis, show how readily this hospitable gateway
could be transformed, when occasion required, into an impenetrable
barrier, and employed as a destructive engine of war. The old <g>apartments</g>
in the gateway tower are correctly represented in the following
woodcut--
[Illustration]
In a vaulted room in the east tower there is a remarkable echo; and
thither musical parties frequently resort during the fine season to
spread their pic-nic, and exercise their vocal powers. This apartment is
considered to have been the prison to which captives, or hostages of
distinction, were formerly consigned;[233] and certainly no place in the
Castle presents an air of more “hopeless security.” In the court
below--as represented in a former woodcut--several pieces of ancient
armour, and some heavy cannon shot, are shown to the visitor, as
illustrative of the times to which they belong. The next compartment is
<g>The Paved Court.</g>--All the buildings on the right of this court,
particularly the Closet Tower--the third pentagonal tower at the
entrance--suffered greatly from the enemy’s cannon during the siege; and
here, on the north-east side of the wall, the breach was effected that
hastened the capitulation. The Pitched, or Paved Court, the area of
which was once the parade ground, thronged with armed men, as they
joined in some military fête, or entered on some warlike preparation for
the siege, is now surrounded by only crumbling walls, and as verdant as
a bowling-green. The towering battlements are all richly festooned with
ivy. Every crevice sends forth its trees and shrubs, that seem to
luxuriate in the old mortar; and under the same canopy of leaves, as
already noticed, birds of song and birds of ill omen congregate
together. At the extremity of the Paved Court, on the right, as we
proceed westward, and from the point marked by a seat under a shady
ash-tree, the visitor obtains an imposing view of the architecture on
the south side, which, with all its dilapidations, is eminently
picturesque. “Its boundary is there hung with the richest tapestry that
Nature can weave--a mantling vestment of evergreen--through which
appears, in grand proportions, the majestic window of the Hall of
State.” This is a prominent feature in the steel engraving.
<g>The Kitchen.</g>--At the extremity of the court, and opposite to the portal,
is an archway leading to the kitchen, which occupies the area of a
pentagonal tower, projecting beyond the walls northward, and of narrow
compass, but great solidity and strength. In an office adjoining is an
extensive fireplace, the arch of which, thirteen feet in the span, is
formed by two massive stones. The wide capacious chimney is worthy of
notice. Beneath the kitchen is a room in perfect preservation, called
the Wet Larder, which may be easily reached by a subterranean passage.
From the kitchen a passage leads southward across the lower end of the
Pitched Court to the Buttery, and this again to the common
<g>Dining-Hall</g>, or Parlour.--This apartment measures forty-nine feet in
length by twenty-one in breadth, with an opening at the east end into a
narrow cross passage, which also communicates, by three openings or
doors, with the great Hall, which lies between the Pitched Court and the
Chapel, and occupies nearly the whole space between this dining-hall and
the Officers’ Tower, at the great entrance. Adjoining these is the
<g>Baronial Hall.</g>--This stately apartment, running parallel with the
ancient chapel, occupies the interval between the two inner courts, and
measures sixty-six feet in length by twenty-eight in breadth. The chief
indications of its original grandeur consist in the majestic
proportions--all of elegant design and masterly execution. The great
bay-window is a feature that cannot fail to excite admiration; and were
no other left entire, it would serve to convey a very distinct picture
of that feudal magnificence which was in character with the splendour of
its architecture. The fireplace, ten feet wide by eight feet high, is
well adapted to the size of the apartment, and to those times when,
instead of pit-coal, the branches or bole of a tree blazed on the winter
hearth.
<g>Arms.</g>--The arms of the Marquisate of Worcester, cut in stone, but much
obliterated, adorn the eastern wall; for the noble badge was an
offensive object to the republicans; and, on their taking possession of
the castle, it was probably
[Illustration: _The Baronial Hall._