resemblance--as if Nature herself had chosen him to be his
representative--the right stone being pulled out, and a counterfeit set
in the right ring--and what with the likeness of his countenance, and
the identity of apparel, he passed for current; which jest my Roman
thought so good, that he must needs brag of it to the Marquess. But my
lord no way liked it; asking him--‘Would you put another upon doing that
which you would not do yourself? What if the devil--you two being so
like one another--should mistake you for him? I assure you he would go
neare to mar the conceit.’ For, he might have added, though honesty be
no Puritan, yet it will do no hurt.”
“Mine honour is my _life_; both grow in one;
Take honour from me, and my life’s undone.”
In the next passage, the Marquess undertakes the duty of admonishing a
party who had come to visit him; and his method of doing so is somewhat
amusing. We shall give the lecture, as nearly as we can, in his
chaplain’s own words:--“There was a new-married couple,” says he,
“presented before the Marquess. The bride was a goodly proper woman, her
face well-featured, an excellent eye she had, but she was pitifully
disfigured with the smallpox. The Marquess, looking much upon her, and
saying nothing to her for a long while, we all knew that silence was in
labour for some notable production. At last he advances toward the young
bride, and asked her: ‘Gentlewoman, do you know why it is said that God
Almighty created man and builded woman?’ The lady, somewhat out of
countenance, answered, ‘No, indeed, my lord.’ The Marquess asked her
again: ‘Do you know why you women are called housewives?’ ‘I think, my
lord,’ said the bride, ‘because good wives should keep at home, and not
gad abroad.’ ‘It is a good answer,’ said the Marquess, ‘but not the
right one; for women may be bad wives at home, as well as abroad;
otherwise they would never scold their husbands out of doors. The answer
to my first question is: Woman is not said to be _made_ as Adam was,
which only signifies plain work; but to be _built_, which signifies
curiosity and contrivance; and, therefore, as to my second question, a
woman is called a housewife, because she is a house out of which all the
royal families of kings and emperors derive their extract. Neither are
you only compared to houses; but unto cities, kingdoms, churches, and
commonwealths. But do you know what house you are like?’ ‘No, indeed, my
lord,’ answered the bride. ‘Why, then, I’ll tell you,’ resumed the
Marquess; ‘when God builded the first woman, he made her his storehouse,
wherein he had laid up all the race of mankind, wherewith he replenished
the whole earth. But I must tell you, my lady, God Almighty did not make
you coaches nor waggons, that you should be always gadding about.’
Whereat the bridegroom made answer: ‘My lord, I thank you for this; I
hope my wife will remember it.’ ‘My lord,’ said the young bride, ‘you
will read such a lecture to my husband, that he will never let me go
abroad.’ ‘Oh no, my lady,’ said the Marquess, ‘he must not debar you of
that liberty, provided you never go abroad but when you go out like the
snaile; who seldom stirs abroad but whilst that blessing, the dew of
heaven, is upon the earth, that she may gather benefit; and by her
greatest care, and equal management, still carries her house upon her
back.’ ‘Oh, my lord,’ said she, ‘if I should goe abroad like the snaile,
I should carry not only a house upon my back, but horns upon my
forehead!’ ‘No, lady,’ said the Marquess; ‘though she pockes at you, yet
they are not horns; the snaile can soon draw them in if you touch them,
which no horned creature can perform; but she carries them in her head
to teach you what you should provide, and bear in mind against you go to
hay-making.’
“But the Marquess fearing he had a little displeased the young couple,
he thought to make amends by the following, though somewhat equivocal,
discourse:--‘Sir,’ said he to the bridegroom, ‘you know I have compared
your wife unto a building, and I much commend your choice, for a goodly
house should not be chosen for the smoothness or whiteness of the
wall--for such a one may be but a dairy-house or a milk-house; nor
according to the colours or paintings of the outside--for such a one may
be but a tavern or an alehouse; but if I see a house that is lofty and
stately built, and hath fair windows, though the outside be but
rough-cast, yet I am sure there are goodly rooms therein.’
“And so,” adds Bayly, “both parties were well pleased.” For what the
Marquess meant to express by this string of similes was, that although
the lady was much disfigured by the smallpox, yet her fine expressive
eyes, intellectual forehead, noble carriage, and cultivated mind, amply
atoned for accidental disfigurement; and left a balance in her favour
which no outward appearance could disparage or conceal.
These <g>anecdotes</g> of an octogenarian, however unsuited to modern ideas,
and of rather doubtful merit on the score of compliment, are
characteristic of times when the court-jester was still thought a
necessary appendage to a great household; and when riddle and allegory
were the daily vehicles of political wit and private satire, as well as
the legitimate promoters of loyalty, mirth, and good-fellowship. That
they were considered by Dr. Bayly himself--a grave and learned man--as
reflecting honour upon the Marquess who uttered them, and creditable to
his own taste and industry in transmitting them to posterity, is a proof
that, agreeably to the taste of the age, they were fully entitled to the
distinction of ‘apophthegms.’
Here follows another, in a more serious and figurative sense, to which
Juxon himself would not have objected, even from the pulpit:--“We were
talking upon one occasion of Christ’s miracles, more particularly of his
turning water into wine, and of the five loaves and two fishes. ‘Truly,’
said the Marquess, ‘these miracles He works amongst us every day; but
they are so ordinary, or familiar, that we take no notice of them. God
sends rain upon the earth; this water gets up into the vine, and the
sappe of the vine-tree God turneth into wine. And as few graines of
corne as will make _five loaves_ being covered in the earth, will
multiply and encrease to such advantage as will feed five thousand with
bread; and _two fishes_ will bring forth so many fishes as will suffice
so many mouths.’” It was by these serious and intelligible, as well as
original, remarks upon subjects accidentally brought out in
conversation, that the Marquess sought to impress upon all around him
those religious sentiments and convictions which he had himself imbibed
by diligent study of the Scriptures; the benefit of which he daily
acknowledged, when overtaken by the accumulated evils of age and almost
unparalleled adversity.
“Such a house broke--
So noble a master fallen! All gone--
And not one friend to take his fortune by the arm!”
* * * * *
We now turn to the faithful friend who has recorded these anecdotes of
his illustrious patron; who attended him during the whole progress of
the siege, and, after the closing scene at Raglan, accompanied him to
London, soothed him under the new series of afflictions to which he was
there exposed, and never left him until he saw the Master whom he loved
and honoured consigned to his final resting-place in the Beaufort Chapel
at Windsor. This companion, friend, and counsellor, was Dr. Bayly; and,
although our notice must be brief, it is a grateful task to commemorate
the virtues of a man, whose name has almost passed into oblivion; but
whose loyal devotion, genius, talent, and misfortune, justly entitle him
to a place in the same page that records the merits and sufferings of
Henry, first Marquess of Worcester.
<g>Dr. Thomas Bayly</g> was the fourth and youngest son of Dr. Lewis Bayly,
Bishop of Bangor. After finishing his curriculum at the University of
Cambridge, and receiving the degree of Bachelor of Arts in 1638, he was
presented by King <g>Charles</g> to the subdeanery of Wells. In the troubles
that continued to distract the nation, he took an active and unremitting
interest; and having retired with other loyalists to Oxford in 1644, he
was there created Doctor of Divinity. Previously to the battle of
Naseby, he had accepted Lord Worcester’s appointment as chaplain to the
household; and, as we have seen in the preceding account, acted in
several instances as confidential adviser between the King and the
Marquess. He was present during the whole course of the siege of Raglan,
more as a soldier than a chaplain, and took his full share of the perils
and responsibilities in which the officers of the garrison were then
involved.
When terms of capitulation were finally tendered by General Fairfax, and
accepted by the Marquess, Dr. Bayly was employed to draw up the articles
upon which the garrison was to be disbanded: and when the castle was
delivered up to the besiegers, he accompanied the Marquess to London,
attended him during his imprisonment as a friend and servant, consoled
him as a minister of religion, vindicated his character, advocated his
rights, and, when the final hour arrived, he performed over his grave
the last sad offices of religion and humanity.
After this event, Dr. Bayly repaired to the Continent, where he
continued to reside, chiefly in France, until the “martyrdom of King
Charles,” when he returned to England, and published the work already
mentioned, entitled, “Certamen Religiosum; or, a Conference between King
Charles I. and Henry, late Marquess of Worcester, concerning Religion,
in Raglan Castle, anno 1646.” This conference, however, was believed by
many to whom he stood opposed, to have no real foundation in truth; and
to be merely sent forth as a prelude to his declaring himself a convert
to the Roman Catholic faith; or, in the original words, to his “becoming
a Papist.”
In the course of the same year he published another work, entitled, “The
Royal Charter granted unto Kings by God himself,” &c.; to which is
added, “A Treatise,” wherein is proved that Episcopacy is _jure divino_.
By these writings he incurred the heavy displeasure of the
Government--to which all such topics were obnoxious--and the author was
committed to Newgate, where he languished for some time. But at length,
a favourable opportunity having been presented, he made his escape into
Holland, where he carried his religious views into immediate practice,
and became a zealous Roman Catholic.
Previous to this date, and during his confinement in Newgate, he wrote a
piece, entitled, “Herba Parietis; or, the <g>Wallflower</g>, as it grows out of
the stone chamber belonging to the metropolitan prison; being an
historie which is partly true, partly romantic, morally divine; whereby
a marriage between Reality and Fancy is solemnized by Divinity.”[282]
Shortly after this publication, he quitted Holland, and took up his
residence at Douay in France, where he sent forth another book, with the
title of “The End to Controversy between the Roman Catholic and
Protestant Religions, justified by all the several manner of ways
whereby all kinds of controversies, of what nature soever, are usually
or can possibly be determined.”[283] This was followed by “Dr. Bayly’s
<g>Challenge</g>,” the last of his published works; after which he proceeded to
Italy, where he spent the residue of his days, and died, as his
biographers conclude, in poverty and distress. It is more likely,
however, that, after having, by his controversial talents, rendered some
service to the church of his adoption, he retired into a monastery, and
there ended his chequered pilgrimage in exercises of devotion. This,
however, is matter of conjecture, for he is said by Dodd to have died in
the family of Cardinal Ottoboni; while Dr. Trevor, Fellow of Merton
College, who travelled in Italy in 1659, reports that he died in a
public hospital, and that he had seen his grave. His fate, however, like
that of many others--driven into involuntary exile by similar causes--is
involved in a mystery which no recent attempt has been made to
elucidate. _Requiescat in pace._
To the books or pamphlets above named, Dr. Bayly received various
replies, which showed that, by their spirit and execution, they had
excited no little attention among the able and fierce controversialists
of that day. Among those who took the field against him were Christopher
Cartwright, L’Estrange, Robert Sanderson, Peter Heylin, and others.
A “Life of Fisher, Bishop of Rochester,” is also ascribed to the pen of
Dr. Bayly; but his title to that work is not fully substantiated. His
Dedication of “Worcester’s <g>Apophthegms</g>,” to the second Marquess, author
of “A Century of Inventions,” is manly and elegant. The conclusion is in
these words:--“I layd your noble father in his grave with mine own
hands; and I could not let a memorial of him lye buried under my own
manuscript, but thought it a duty belonging to his fame, and your own
merit, to dedicate this book unto your lordship, heir to all, but
apparently to nothing but his virtues and this memorial of them.”
In his Epistle to the Reader, he enters upon a lively vindication of the
genuineness of his “Certamen; or, Discourse Concerning Religion;” the
veracity of which had been bitterly impugned by his enemies; and states
that he published it in vindication of the King’s constant affection to
the _Protestant_ religion. There is considerable spirit in the
preface:--“Some,” he says, “will not admit of that controversie
otherwise than as a parable: First, because they were there--that is, at
Raglan Castle--and heard no such thing; Secondly, because they believed
not the <g>Marquess</g> of Worcester to be so able a man; as I hear it hath
been said by some of his Majesty’s field chaplains, who envying that a
loyal pen should wagge, where they can be contented to sew pillowes
under the elbowes, to bead cushions over the heads of the people,[284]
and preach such wholesome and sound doctrine of mortification,
sanctification, justification, and good life, that they thought they
might safely get up into any pulpit, not caring what bottom it had, nor
what canopie was over head. Not much unlike the man who went to preach
after [upon] the sureness of his foundation, when his house was all on
fire. These men will tell you that this was no real thing; because they
were there--at <g>Raglan</g>--all the while; whilst, in fact, they were not
there at all except at _meales_; and when I tell you that they were the
doctours, that were better at smelling a good dinner than a disputation,
I have as good as told you their names. I expected truly better reason
from those doctours, than from the knight that said, ‘He was sure there
should be no such thing at Raglan, for his boy Tom was there all the
time!’
“But you will say,” he continues, “you do not believe there was any such
private discourse. Chuse then; who cares? Let him believe that will; it
was writ for the satisfaction of Christians--not of Infidels. But it may
be that ‘mendax Fama’ means to requite me for the wrong she did my
father, who writ a good book;[285] and some would not believe it to be
his; and now that I have set out a book none of mine own, she will have
it to be _mine_. I thank her kindly; but I had rather be without her
praises, than to be thought such an ingenious lyar.”
The suspicion that Bayly was the inventor, and not reporter, of the
“Certamen Religiosum,” is not supported by any testimony to which we can
attach implicit reliance; for those who charged him with the deception,
were of the party to whom he was politically as well as religiously
opposed. That conversations of the kind actually occurred between the
King and the Marquess, can hardly be doubted; but as Bayly, in the midst
of a garrison, could not be so cool and accurate as a modern reporter
for the press, we may fancy that he clothed the arguments, sent forth in
the “Certamen,” in his own language; and perhaps insensibly coloured
them with his own sentiments.
It has been farther said of him, that, besides taking part in the
defence of <g>Raglan</g>, he fought, on some occasion of his subsequent and
chequered career, as a common soldier. This is by no means unlikely; for
he was of an active and adventurous spirit; never reluctant to take up
arms in a good cause; and like some other ecclesiastics of his day, as
well known in the “tented field” as in the pulpit.
In his “Book of Apophthegms,”[286] he mentions the fact of his having
saved Lord Worcester from the enemy, by giving him timely notice of
their approach, when he found him wandering on the Welsh mountains; and,
recording this incident as the occasion and origin of his acquaintance
with the Marquess, he says: “From that time forward, until I laid him in
his grave in Windsor Castle, I never parted from him.” Such enthusiastic
attachment--disinterested as, under all the peculiar circumstances of
the case, it must have been--does infinite credit to the memory of
Bayly; for it generally happens that fallen greatness, like court
favourites, has no real friends.--We now return to the closing scene of
the master whom he had served with so much constancy, and whom it was
literally his misfortune to survive; for after his obsequies at Windsor,
Bayly was left a friendless wanderer, denounced at home, received with
suspicion abroad, and indebted to charity for bread and--a grave.
Reduced, as we have seen, to the humiliating condition of a prisoner,
the Marquess of Worcester did not long require the vigilance of the
Black Rod. From the day that Raglan was delivered up to General Fairfax,
his health, which during the siege had suffered from great mental
anxiety, rapidly declined under the absence of all that reconciles
worldly men to the evils of life. But, armed with that Christian
philosophy which is the only panacea for the outrages of fortune, he
preserved the inward calm of a resigned and tranquil spirit; and,
looking forward to another and a happier existence, he regarded passing
events, like his own bodily infirmities, as visitations from an unseen
Power, who, through a rugged and stormy path, was conducting his servant
into a new region of sunshine and peace. At his death, which took place
in December, all that descended to his family, as unconvertible to
Parliamentary uses, were the example he had set before them of unshaken
loyalty, well-grounded faith, and a patient endurance of evils which the
practice of such hereditary virtues might incur. By his wife, whom he
long survived, he had issue nine sons and four daughters: namely, Lord
Herbert, Earl of Glamorgan, who succeeded to the honours; Lord John, who
married a daughter of Thomas, Lord Arundel of Wardour; and Lord Charles,
who, during the siege of Raglan, acted as second in command under his
father, and after signalizing himself in the royal service, devoted
himself to the church, and died, as already observed, in exile at
Cambray. These are the only members of the family that require to be
noticed in this place.
<g>Edward</g>, the second Marquess, maintained the same spirit of loyalty which
had actuated his father through life. The services which he had
hitherto, as Lord Herbert, rendered to the royal cause, were followed by
others which won for him the entire confidence of his Sovereign, by whom
he was constituted Lord Lieutenant of North Wales, and invested with the
highest authority ever delegated by a king to his subject. To this
remarkable fact allusion has been already made;[287] but in this place,
where it may be more properly introduced, we shall quote the original at
full length. In the preceding history, as we have seen, the King
addressed him in letters patent from Oxford, by the title of Earl of
Glamorgan, Baron Beaufort of Caldecot; and to complete the honours
showered upon him, his Majesty invested him, in 1644, with the following
commission:--
“<g>Charles</g>, by the grace of God, King of England, Scotland, France,
and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, &c., to our right trusty and
right well-beloved cousin Edward Somerset _alias_ Plantagenet, Lord
Herbert, Baron Beaufort of Caldicote, Grosmond, Chepstow, Raglan,
and Gower, Earl of Glamorgan, son and heir apparent of our entirely
beloved cousin, Henry, Earl and Marquess of Worcester, greeting.
“Having had good and long experience of your prowess, prudence, and
fidelity, do make choice, and by these nominate and appoint you
our, &c., to be our generalissimo of three armies, English, Irish,
and Foreign, and admiral of a fleet at sea, with power to recommend
your Lieut.-General for our approbation; leaving all other officers
to your own election and denomination, and accordingly to receive
their commission from you, willing and commanding them, and every
of them, you to obey as their general, and you to receive immediate
orders from ourself only. And lest, through distance of place, we
may be misinformed, we will and commend you to reply unto us, if
any of our orders should thwart or hinder any of your designs for
our service. And there being necessary great sums of money to the
carrying on so chargeable an employment, which we have not to
furnish you withal, we do by these empower you to contract with any
of our loving subjects of England, Ireland, and dominion of Wales,
for wardships, customs, woods, or any our rights and prerogatives;
we by these obliging ourselves, our heirs, and successors, to
confirm and make good the same accordingly. And for persons of
generosity, for whom titles of honour are most desirable, we have
entrusted you with several patents under our <g>Great Seal</g> of England,
from a Marquis to a Baronet, which we give you full power and
authority to date and dispose of, without knowing our further
pleasure. So great is our trust and confidence in you, as that,
whatsoever you do contract for or promise, <g>We</g> will make good the
same accordingly, from the date of this our commission forwards;
which, for the better satisfaction, We give you leave to give them,
or any of them, copies thereof, attested under your hand and seal
of arms. And for your own encouragement, and in token of our
gratitude, we give and allow you henceforward such fees, titles,
preheminences, and privileges, as do and may belong to your place
and command above-mentioned; with promise of our dear daughter
<g>Elizabeth</g> to your son Plantagenet in marriage, with three hundred
thousand pounds in dower or portion; most part whereof we
acknowledge spent or disburst by your Father[288] and you in our
service; and the title of <g>Duke</g> of Somerset to you and your heirs
male for ever; and from henceforward to give the <g>Garter</g> to your
arms, and at your pleasure to put on the <g>George</g> and blue ribbon.
And for your greater honour, and in testimony of our reality, we
have with our own hand affixed our great seal of England unto these
our commission and letters, making them patents.
“<g>Witness</g> ourself at Oxford, the first day of April, in the
twentieth year of our reign, and the year of our <g>Lord</g> one thousand
six hundred and forty-four.
“<g>Charles.</g>”
The result of this commission, full of promises, offers a striking
instance of the uncertainty of “the best laid schemes” of men. Lord
Glamorgan’s eldest son married; but no matrimonial alliance took place
between the Royal family and his. Nor is it mentioned that any use was
made of his unprecedented power to make peers; and what is singular
enough, the title of Glamorgan, granted to Lord Herbert himself, was
disputed, on account of some informality, at the Restoration of Charles
II., and surrendered by him when Marquess of Worcester. He seems,
indeed, to have regarded neither his private interest nor his public
reputation in comparison with those of his Royal master. He was sent to
Ireland, as already noticed, with a secret commission to negotiate with
the Roman Catholics; and upon its discovery, and being disowned by
Charles, he took all the fault on himself, to the imminent hazard of his
own life. At the Restoration he met with no adequate reward for his
devoted loyalty. Charles the Second, probably, had not all the power
that was supposed, as he certainly had not all the inclination that was
expected, to reward the adherents of his family.
Horace Walpole, in his “Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors,” gives a
lively, but a very careless and unfair, account of this Marquess of
Worcester. He ridicules his “Century of Inventions;” but, in truth, Lord
Orford’s opinion will not go far on scientific subjects. An opinion,
very different from that of the critic-peer, will be formed on
consulting the new edition of the “Century of Inventions,” with
historical and explanatory notes, published in 1835, by Mr. Charles F.
Partington.
The title the Marquess gives the original work is, “A Century of the
Names and Scantlings of such Inventions, as at present I can call to
mind to have tried and perfected, which (my former notes being lost) I
have, at the instance of a powerful friend, endeavoured now, in the year
1655, to set these down in such a way, as may sufficiently instruct me
to put any of them in practice.”
“Artis et naturæ proles.”
He dedicates it to the King in language of unabated loyalty; and in a
second address impressively recommends his discoveries to the attention
of both Houses of Parliament. In the sixth of these “Inventions,” Mr.
Partington recognises an improved construction of the telegraph, as it
was used before the electric telegraph came into use.
In VIII. IX. and X. various engines of war are hinted, which have since
been perfected by Congreve and others. The reader who is curious in such
subjects, will be well repaid by a perusal of Mr. Partington’s book. We
can only find room for those inventions which foreshadow the
steam-engine.
“XC. An engine so contrived that, working the _primum mobile_ forward or
backward, upward or downward, circularly or cornerwise, to and fro,
straight, upright or downright, yet the pretended operation continueth
and advanceth; none of the motions above-mentioned hindering, much less
stopping the other; but unanimously and with harmony agreeing, they all
augment and contribute strength unto the intended work and operation;
and, therefore, I call this a _semi-omnipotent engine_, and do intend
that a model thereof be buried with me.
“XCIX. How to make one pound weight raise an hundred as high as one
pound falleth; and yet the hundred pounds weight descending doth what
nothing less than one hundred pounds can effect.
“LXVIII. An admirable and most forcible way to drive up water by fire,
not by drawing and sucking it upwards, for that must be, as the
philosopher calleth it, _infra spheram activitatis_, which is had at
such a distance; but this way hath no bounder, if the vessels be strong
enough; for I have taken a piece of a whole cannon, whereof the end was
burst, and filled it three quarters full, stopping and screwing up the
broken end, as also the touchhole; and making a constant fire under it,
within twenty-fours it burst, and made a great crack. So that having
found a way to make my vessels, so that they are strengthened by the
force within them, the one to fill after the other, have seen the water
run like a constant fountain stream forty feet high; one vessel of
water, rarefied by fire, driveth up forty of cold water; and a man that
tends the work is but to turn two cocks, that one vessel of water being
consumed, another begins to force and refill with cold water, and so
successively, the fire being tended and kept constant, which the
selfsame person may likewise abundantly perform in the interim between
the necessity of turning the said cocks.
“C. Upon so potent a help as these two last-mentioned inventions, a
waterwork is, by many years’ experience and labour, so advantageously by
me contrived, that a child’s force bringeth up, an hundred feet high, an
incredible quantity of water, even two feet diameter. And I may boldly
call it the most stupendous work in the whole world! Not only, with
little charge, to drain all sorts of mines, and furnish cities with
water, though never so high seated, as well to keep them sweet, running
through several streets, and so performing the work of scavengers, as
well as furnishing the inhabitants with sufficient water for their
private occasions; but likewise supplying the rivers with sufficient to
maintain and make navigable from town to town, and for the bettering of
lands all the way it runs; with many more advantageous and yet greater
effects of profit, admiration, and consequence. So that, deservedly, I
deem this invention to crown my labours, to reward my expenses, and make
my thoughts acquiesce in the way of farther inventions. This making up
the whole century, and preventing any farther trouble to the reader for
the present, meaning to leave to posterity a book, wherein, under each
of these heads, the means to put in execution and visible trial all and
every of these inventions, with the shape and form of all things
belonging to them, shall be printed by brass plates.” And he devoutly
concludes:--“_In bonum publicum, et ad majorem_ DEI _gloriam_.”
On these Mr. Partington has the following note:--“The three last
inventions may justly be considered as the most important of the whole
‘Century;’ and when united with the 68th article, they appear to suggest
nearly all the data essential for the construction of a modern
steam-engine. The noble author has furnished us with what he calls a
definition of this engine; and although it is written in the same vague
and empirical style which characterises a large portion of his
‘Inventions,’ it may yet be considered as affording additional proofs of
the above important fact.”
The Marquess’s “Definition” is exceedingly rare, as the only copy known
to be extant is preserved in the British Museum. It is printed on a
single sheet, without date, and appears to have been written for the
purpose of procuring subscriptions in aid of a water company, then about
to be established:--
“A stupendous, or a water-commanding engine, boundless for height or
quantity, requiring no external nor even additional help or force, to be
set or continued in motion, but what intrinsically is afforded from its
own operation, nor yet the twentieth part thereof. And the engine
consisteth of the following particulars:--
“A perfect counterpoise, for what quantity soever of water.
“A perfect countervail, for what height soever it is to be brought unto.
“A _primum mobile_, commanding both height and quantity, regulator-wise.
“A vicegerent, or countervail, supplying the place, and performing the
full force of man, wind, beast, or mill.
“A helm, or stern, with bit and reins, wherewith any child may guide,
order, and control the whole operation.
“A particular magazine for water, according to the intended quantity or
height of water.
“An aqueduct, capable of any intended quantity or height of water.
“A place for the original fountain, or river, to run into, and
naturally, of its own accord, incorporate itself with the rising water,
and at the very bottom of the aqueduct, though never so big or high.
“By <g>Divine Providence</g> and heavenly inspiration, this is my stupendous
water-commanding engine, boundless for height and quantity.
“Whosoever is master of weight, is master of force; whosoever is master
of water, is master of both; and, consequently, to him all forcible
actions and achievements are easy.”
“It is said,” continues our authority in another place, “that the
Marquess, while confined in the Tower of London, was preparing some food
in his apartment, (a singularly good result from a marquess having been
obliged to be his own cook,) and the cover of the vessel having been
closely fitted, was, by the expansion of the steam, suddenly forced off
and driven up the chimney. This circumstance attracting his attention,
led him to a train of thought, which terminated in the completion of his
‘water-commanding <g>engine</g>.’”
Thus, we think, posterity has something more to thank the noble owner of
Raglan for, than deeds of arms, or the defence of castles. His great
castle, however, was ere this time in ruins, and furnishing another
instance of the folly with which the conquerors at that period destroyed
the noble buildings which had belonged to their enemies the Royalists;
as if it had not been enough, and more wise and provident, to have kept
them in their own possession, and converted them to republican uses.
<g>The Marquess</g> survived the publication of his “Century” only about two
years. He died in retirement, near London, on the 3d of April, 1667, and
was buried in the vault of Raglan Church, on the 19th of the same month,
near his grandfather, Edward, Earl of Worcester.[289]
After the <g>Restoration</g>, as already noticed, a committee was appointed by
the House of Lords,[290] to take the patent above quoted into serious
consideration. The consequence was, that in a very few days thereafter
it reported that the Marquess was willing, without further question, to
deliver it up to his Majesty; and accordingly, on the third of September
following, the said patent, “granted,” as it was alleged, “in prejudice
to the Peers,” was formally surrendered to the Sovereign, as the only
fountain of national honours.
[Illustration]
<g>Henry</g>, only son of the second Marquess, succeeded him in all those high
titles and appointments, by which the King endeavoured to make him
amends for the vast sacrifices which his family had incurred by a long
course of unflinching and untarnished loyalty. And to crown the whole,
he was installed K.G., and finally advanced to the highest rank of the
peerage. Having been “eminently serviceable to the King”--as expressed
in the patent--“since his most happy restoration to the throne of these
realms; in consideration thereof, and of his most noble descent from
King <g>Edward</g> the Third, by John de Beaufort, eldest son of <g>John of Gaunt</g>,
Duke of Lancaster, by Catherine Swinford, his third wife,” the Marquess
of Worcester was created, in December, 1682, Duke of Beaufort, with
remainder to the heirs male of his body.
At the funeral of <g>Charles</g> the Second, his Grace was one of the
supporters to <g>George</g>, Prince of Denmark, chief mourner. By <g>James</g> the
Second he was made Lord President of <g>Wales</g>, and Lord Lieutenant of
twelve different counties in the Principality; and at the Coronation, in
April following, he had the distinguished honour of carrying the Queen’s
crown. He was afterwards made Colonel of the 11th Regiment of foot, then
first raised. He next exerted himself against the Duke of Monmouth; and
endeavoured, though ineffectually, to secure Bristol against the
adherents of the Prince of Orange. Upon that Prince’s elevation to the
British throne, his Grace refused to take the oaths, and abjuring public
life, lived in retirement until his death, which took place in 1699, in
the seventieth year of his age.
<g>Charles</g>, the second but eldest surviving son of the first Duke, is
mentioned in the family history as a nobleman of great parts and
learning. He died in the lifetime of his <g>father</g>, in consequence of an
accident, in the thirty-eighth year of his age. His horses, we are told,
taking fright, and running down a steep hill, the danger became
imminent; when, to avoid the casualty which threatened him, he unhappily
leaped out, broke his thigh-bone, and only survived the accident three
days.
<g>Henry</g>, his eldest son, succeeded his grandfather as second Duke of
Beaufort. On <g>Queen Anne’s</g> visiting the University of Oxford in 1702, and
going thence in her progress to Bath, the Duke met her Majesty near
Cirencester, on the twenty-ninth of August; and, attended by great
numbers of the gentlemen, clergy, and freeholders of the county,
conducted her with great pomp to his seat at <g>Badminton</g>, where she was
received with regal splendour. This act of loyal hospitality--so
becoming in a descendant of Henry the first <g>Marquess</g> of Worcester--was
most graciously acknowledged by the Queen and her royal consort Prince
George of Denmark.
Three years after this event, the Duke took his seat in the House of
Lords; but did not appear at court until after the change of ministers
in 1710, when he frankly told her Majesty that he could “then, and only
then, call her Queen of England.”
After being installed in various high offices, and while promising a
long and distinguished career in the service of his country, he was
prematurely cut off in the thirty-first year of his age, and buried at
Badminton, where a monument records his titles, character, and public
services.
<g>Badminton</g>, which we have just named, is the principal seat of the
Beaufort family, and comprises one of the finest parks in England.
Badminton Church, which contains the monuments above-named, was rebuilt
at the expense of the late Duke of Beaufort in 1785, after a plan by
Evans. It stands within the Ducal Park; and, besides various other
specimens of art, represents the arms of Somerset--“foy pour
devoir”--faith for duty--worked in mosaic in the pavement of the
chancel. On the destruction of
<g>Raglan Castle</g>, as already described in these pages, was laid the
foundation of Badminton Park, where the household gods of the family
were formally enshrined, and insured the possession of a more peaceful
and propitious home.
“Here, in forgetfulness of many woes,
The loyal <g>Founder</g> sought and found repose;
Here, in sweet landscapes to the Muse endeared,
Soothed by Religion, and by Science cheered;
Tasted the sweets that rarely can be known,
Save when we make the public weal our own.”
This beautiful seat--long prior to the time in question--had been the
hereditary demesne of the <g>Botelers</g>, whose names appear in the earliest
period of British history. The house is built in the Palladian style of
architecture--a style for which the first Duke of <g>Beaufort</g> had acquired
a taste at Vicenza; and when the time had arrived that a house, worthy
of his illustrious ancestors, should be erected in this county, a
decided preference was given to the Italian model. The principal front
is of great length, having in its centre division a composite colonnade,
surmounted by an attic, on which is sculptured the family arms. The
wings of the mansion, extending considerably on each side, are
terminated by Tuscan arches, leading to the offices and stables. Over
each extremity of the centre is a cupola. The interior decorations of
this palace are splendid, but still in good keeping, and evincing due
regard to the classical taste in which the building itself originated.
The great dining or banquet hall is tastefully ornamented by wood
carvings, from the designs of the celebrated Gibbons--all of elaborate
execution, and presenting some of the finest specimens ever produced by
that artist. The picture gallery--which the stranger will admire for its
fine proportions and classical simplicity--presents a series of family
portraits, with which, individually, are associated many pleasing, and
some painful events and circumstances of the national history--
“Of lofty stem! the beautiful, the bold--
Names that still blazon the historic page!
Faintly, yet brightly, hath the painter told
Their worth and virtues to a latter age--
‘In faith inflexible;’ in beauty’s charms
Triumphant; and invincible in arms.”
<g>The park</g>, by which the mansion is encircled, is of great extent--more
than nine miles in circumference; and although the natural scenery is
comparatively tame, the walks and drives are exceedingly picturesque;
and, to the practised eye of strangers, present many points of view
which will linger on the memory long after other and more romantic
scenes are forgotten.
“Here waving woods--a mass of living green--
With varied shade diversify the scene;
Flowers of all hues perfume the haunted dell,
Where streams descend, and bubbling fountains dwell;
Where busts of heroes glimmer through the trees,
And Nature’s music floats upon the breeze--
Such, as in olden time, was heard to wake
The slumbering echoes of the Larian lake;
Or soothed, with dulcet tones, the opal sea,
That clasps thy beauteous shore--Parthenopè!
Yet brighter rises--fairer sets the sun
Upon _thy_ classic shades--fair <g>Badminton</g>.”
With these particulars, which bring down the family history to
comparatively modern times, we close this portion of the subject, and
return to the scene of our illustrations--
<g>Raglan Castle.</g>--By those unacquainted with the subject, it has been
often regretted that, when prosperity had again visited the family of
Worcester, no effort was ever made to restore this castle to something
of its original splendour. But the obstacles that opposed such a
patriotic design were innumerable; and although the apartments at vast
expense might have been rendered habitable, yet the parks, and the
timber--the growth of centuries--having all been cut down and swept away
in the Revolution, and nothing left but a comparatively bleak and
uncultivated waste, the grand ornament of the manor was not to be
replaced by the hand of art. Turrets might again multiply along the
battlements, and splendid courts be rescued from the cumbrous ruins that
had long hid and disfigured them; but trees must be raised by a slower
process, and he who should replant the wasted demesne must do so, not
for himself, but for the benefit of future generations.
But, in addition to other obstacles that need not here be noticed, the
habits and manner of society had become so thoroughly changed after the
Restoration, that a feudal stronghold was no longer indispensable for
the security and comfort of great families. The military chief had now
thrown aside his cumbrous mail, and entered into the every-day duties of
civil life; and by improved intercourse with his fellow-men--confidence
in the stability of government--a taste for agriculture, and love of
national sports and pastimes, he felt his own happiness advanced by the
new facilities of promoting that of the people around him. He found that
to sleep soundly, required the aid of neither drawbridge nor portcullis.
Public order and confidence once restored, domestic feuds, which had so
long kept men strangers to one another--except in some field of
conflict--were succeeded by family alliances, which united them by new
ties of friendship and affection; and instead of mutual distrust and
mutual defiance, the nobles of the land were gradually weaned back from
an immoderate love of war to the arts of peace, and the practical
illustration of loyalty and patriotism. The feudal castle, built chiefly
for defence, was now of course a structure of which every one could
perceive the comfortless inconvenience. A host of retainers was no
longer required either for the safety or the baronial state of the
mansion; a new form of society required new and more simple forms of
accommodation; and the rural mansion, with its waving woods, gardens,
orchards, farm-like offices, well-stocked preserves, and richly
variegated lawns, succeeded those stern fortifications within which
former generations had maintained their haughty independence--but which,
in reality, was little better than “the freedom of a state prisoner”--
“For still the ramparts, tall and grim,
Were _barriers_ ’twixt the world and him!”
<g>Raglan</g> Castle, however--even while occupied as a feudal
residence--possessed many advantages over its contemporaries. Its
spacious courts, lofty halls, numerous suites of chambers, extensive
battlements, ancient gardens, shady walks, and variegated prospects,
were luxuries to which few, if any, of our domestic fortalices could lay
claim. Within the walls of the castle, the riches of art, pictorial and
sculptured, were scattered with taste and liberality on every object
that could please the eye or amuse the fancy; while the skill and
science illustrated in their arrangement improved the mind, and imparted
a classic grace and colouring to the whole structure. Of its luxuries in
this respect--in its library, its <g>Gallery</g> of paintings and
sculpture--the description of an old poet may be quoted as not
inapplicable to the scene presented by Raglan, at the commencement of
the seventeenth century:--
[Illustration: State Gallery--looking south.]
“For the rich spoil of all the continents,
The boast of art and nature, there was brought;
Corinthian brass, Egyptian monuments,
With hieroglyphic sculptures all inwrought;
And Parian marbles, by Greek artists taught
To counterfeit the forms of heroes old,
And set before the eye of sober thought
Lycurgus, Homer, and Alcides bold--
All these and many more that may not here be told.”
But of all the artificial embellishments for which Raglan Castle was
famed, its <g>Water-works</g>--on a most ingenious and expensive scale--are
allowed to have formed a principal feature; and these Lord Herbert and
the first Marquess appear to have brought to a degree of perfection
previously unknown in this country. In their day--long before the name
of Cromwell had inspired sentiments of either respect or alarm--Raglan
Castle was probably as much distinguished in this respect amongst
baronial mansions, as the “Palace of the Peak” among the aristocratic
mansions of our own times. During the numerous fêtes celebrated within
its gates in honour of the King’s visit, these water-works came in for a
large share of royal admiration; and who can doubt that the rushing
fountains of Raglan had, perhaps, as soothing an influence upon the
distracted mind of the first <g>Charles</g>, as those of Tivoli are said to
have had on that of Mecænas, whom the distracting cares of state, as
tradition reports, had rendered sad and sleepless? Fresh from the field
of Naseby, the sound of welcome that met King Charles at the gate of
Raglan, must have been peculiarly grateful to _his_ ear, on which the
shouts of loyalty were destined never to fall again with so much truth
and fervour. As the equestrian group in the <g>Fountain Court</g> threw up its
snowy column during the night, the spray may have reached the very
casement of the King’s chamber, and invited that repose which
unparalleled reverses had scared from his pillow. If, under the ordinary
circumstances of royalty, “uneasy lies the head that wears a crown,” his
must indeed have been “unrest,” from whose head the crown was so surely
but insensibly falling.--These, however, are sentimental conjectures,
with which the topographer has little or nothing to do; we turn,
therefore, to the subject in question, the water-works of Raglan, and
the hero of the scene, the first Marquess, of whom local history reports
the following
<g>Anecdote.</g>--At the beginning of the Long Parliament, we are told, certain
rustics of the neighbourhood, availing themselves of the prejudices
excited against Lord Worcester on account of his creed, presented
themselves one morning at the gate of Raglan, and in the name of
Parliament demanded possession of the household arms. Apprised of their
design, the noble owner met them at the White Gate; and after hearing
them repeat the demand for arms, put the question, “Whether, seeing that
they had come to disarm him and his servants, they intended also to
follow up that act of violence by robbing him of his money and goods?”
“No,” said the intruders; “we want your arms, and that only because you
are publicly denounced as a recusant!” “Nay,” said his lordship; “I am
indeed a peer of the realm, but I am no convicted recusant; and
therefore the law cannot in reason take notice of any such thing, much
less sanction this violent proceeding.”
Thus checked in their first attempt, the Marquess proceeded to warn them
of the danger they had incurred by pressing an unlawful demand; and
threatening them with serious consequences, they were well pleased to
forego the prime object of their visit, and turning round prepared to
retire without further parley. The Marquess, however, seeing their
contrition, invited them to enter the gate of the castle, and amuse
themselves, in a peaceable way, with a sight of whatever it contained.
His design, however, was to punish them, in a manner they little
expected, for the unnecessary alarm they had occasioned to the
household.
Condescending to be his own cicerone in the case, he conducted the
rustic band from one place to another, until--greatly wondering at
everything they saw--they had traversed nearly the whole premises. At
last, just when they had come to that part of the Castle Moat, over
which a lofty bridge communicated with the Keep,[291] he invited them to
pause, and examine the scene at leisure.
“Now, at this point,” says Bayly, “Lord Herbert had lately contrived
certain water-works, which, when the several engines and wheels were set
agoing, vast quantities of water through the hollow conveyances were to
be let down from the top of the high tower.” All being ready for action,
a signal from the Marquess brought down through these a deluge of
cataracts, which, by their roaring, hissing, and foaming through the
hollow tubes, produced such a hideous and deafening noise, that every
echo from the buildings around was roused into imitation; while the
visitors themselves, suddenly enveloped in a magic circle of roaring
cataracts, knew not what to think, nor which way to turn. Describing the
effect in his own graphic style, the Chaplain writes:--
“Such was the roaring, as if the mouth of hell had been thrown wide
open, and all the devils had been conjured up, that the poor silly men
stood so amazed, as if they had been half dead; and yet they saw
nothing!”
At last, as the plot was contrived, up comes a man in great haste and
affected trepidation; and staring wildly at the half-petrified rustics,
cried out as he passed them--“Look to yourselves, my masters; look to
yourselves; for, by’r Lady, the lions are all broke loose!” Hereupon the
rustic “arms-searchers” fell into such a dancing fit of ague, that, in
their attempts to escape the lions’ jaws, they tumbled so over one
another as they scampered down stairs, that it was feared one half of
them had broken their necks. Nor did they once look behind them, until
they found themselves a full mile beyond the gates of the castle.
By this _ruse_, the Marquess completely succeeded in warding off any
second party disposed to make a similar experiment. The demand for arms
was not repeated; the roar of Worcester’s “lions” kept all intruders at
bay; and the recent adventure, which had lost nothing by telling, did
more for a time to insure the tranquillity of Raglan Castle, than could
have been accomplished by a regiment of cavalry.
<g>View from the Keep.</g>--The Donjon Tower, where the above adventure
occurred--and which has been already described in these pages--commands
a magnificent view over the surrounding country, particularly to the
south-west, where the landscape--broken into verdant masses of
vegetation--gradually swells into a mountain range, which limits the
view, and depicts its own bold outline on the distant horizon. In
describing this view, we shall be as particular as our limits will
permit; for it is one of the finest in the county. The ascent, as usual
in such buildings, is by a tourniquet staircase, which opens at each of
the five different stories into the ancient, and, in the present case,
lofty apartments; to which, in cases of imminent danger, the family
could retreat as to an inviolable sanctuary. But this was an extremity
to which--so far as we are informed--none of the Worcester family were
ever compelled to resort. So that there are no dramatic incidents
associated with the tower, upon which a romantic story of siege and
storm might be founded.
Of this view, however, all visitors of taste in landscape-painting speak
in terms of admiration; and, having made the experiment on a beautiful
evening in September, we are bound, from the enjoyment it afforded us,
to recommend to all visitors a tour of the battlements, closing with a
view from the top of the Keep. In this view, as shown in the
accompanying engraving, is comprehended a wide panorama, enriched and
embellished with all the characteristic features of English landscape,
from the green valley and fertile wheat-field to the bleak pastoral
uplands that partly enclose the scene. All the foreground is occupied by
smiling cottages and cultivated farms, half buried, as Mr. Thomas[292]
has described them, in the umbrageous and many-coloured foliage that
enriches the scene, and in which the melancholy yew-tree is conspicuous.
The appearance of the ruins in this bird’s-eye view is particularly
striking. Every tower, arch, and battlement--here diverging into
distinct form and outline, and there grouped in picturesque
confusion--strike the spectator with mixed feelings of surprise and
amazement; for it is only from this elevation that he is enabled to form
any correct estimate of the beauty, variety, and extent of a building,
that seems every way fitted to have been the residence of a regal court.
The following table, as recommended by Mr. Thomas,[293] will assist the
curious visitor in discovering the various hills and landmarks which are
generally visible from the Tower of Gwent. Ranging from east to south,
the prominent features of the landscape appear in the following order:
namely--the Kymin, a conical hill overlooking the town of Monmouth, and
crowned with its pavilion. The next is Troy Park, the favourite seat of
the Ducal family; Craig-y-Dorth, the scene of a famous battle between
Henry IV. and Owen Glendower; then the Trellig range of hills,
particularly Beacon Hill--so called
[Illustration: _View from the Battlements._