<g>Glamorganshire</g>.
[Illustration: C]<g>ARDIFF</g>, a neat and well-built town, stands at the mouth
of the river Taafe, from which it probably derives its name.[386] Its
chief ornaments are the church and the castle--the latter a structure of
great antiquity, and now converted into a modern residence, in which the
features of a Norman stronghold are made to harmonize with the
embellishments of a refined age; and where, instead of prancing steeds
and bristling spears, the _ballia_ are lined with wallflower,
shrubberies, and all those tranquil emblems, which indicate the reign of
peace, and the cultivation of taste. Such innovations and refinements,
however, are rather out of character with the place.
The town, when such protection was necessary, was surrounded by a wall,
flanked with towers, and fit to resist and repulse an army of besiegers;
but these warlike appendages, like those who built them, have passed
away, and left behind them little more than the tradition of their
massive strength and number. The towers, as well as the castle, were the
work of Fitz-Hamon, who, as already noticed, possessed himself of
Glamorganshire at the close of the eleventh century, and divided the
spoils among his retainers. The following account of his
expedition--somewhat different from the chronicle above quoted--is from
Caradoc of Llancarvan:[387]--About the same time also died Cadifor, the
son of Calhoyn, lord of Dyfed, whose sons, Llewellyn and Eineon, moved
Gruffydh-ap-Meredith to take up arms against his sovereign prince,
Rhys-ap-<g>Twdor</g>, with whom they joined all the forces they could levy
among their tenants and dependants; and then passing with their army to
Llandydoch, boldly challenged Rhys to fight; who thereupon gave them
battle, and after an engagement, maintained with great resolution on
both sides, the rebels were at length put to flight, and so closely
pursued that Gruffydh was taken prisoner, and executed as a traitor. But
his brother Eineon making his escape, and not daring to trust himself to
any of his kindred, fled to Jestyn-ap-Gurgant, lord of Morgannwe, then
in actual rebellion against <g>Prince Rhys</g>. And, to ingratiate himself the
more in Jestyn’s favour, he promised, on the performance of certain
articles--one of which was, that he should receive his daughter in
marriage--that he would bring over to his aid a considerable body of
Normans, with whom he was intimately acquainted, from the fact of his
having served with them in England. These articles being agreed to,
Eineon hastened across the frontier, and soon prevailed on Fitz-Hamon
and his knights to take up the cause of Jestyn. Early in the spring they
arrived in Glamorganshire, and joining Jestyn marched with their
combined forces into the dominions of Prince Rhys, where, without the
least show of mercy to his countrymen, <g>Eineon</g>, by his own example,
encouraged the Normans to destroy all that came before them. The prince,
then more than ninety-eight years of age, and sadly grieved to find his
people and territory so unmercifully harassed, speedily raised an army
and marched against the invaders. They met near Brecknock, and there,
after a most sanguinary engagement, the venerable prince fell at the
head of his army, and left his country a prey to Norman domination.
Having discharged their stipulated service, and received the promised
reward, <g>Fitz-Hamon</g> and his army prepared to embark for England. But
before they set sail, Eineon made his complaint that Jestyn had
ungratefully affronted him, and absolutely refused--now that the Normans
were dismissed--to make good the conditions previously agreed upon
between them; and such was the malignity of his revenge, that he
resolved rather to see his country pass under the yoke of the Normans,
than continue under the dominion of a chief who could thus forget the
hand that had procured him the victory. He therefore made use of every
argument most likely to influence the Norman spirit, and prevailed. They
returned from their ships and prepared for another campaign; and great
was the surprise of <g>Jestyn</g> when he learned that the friends whom he had
so lately dismissed laden with the reward of their services, and
satisfied with his liberality, were again on shore with the avowed
intention of engaging him in mortal conflict. He now lamented his folly
in having so rashly broken his promise with Eineon; but that was an
error which it was now too late to rectify. The Norman standard was once
more waving from the adjoining heights. The soldiers were animated with
the prospect of another victory--the rich spoils they were to share--and
charmed with the accounts which Eineon had promulgated among them, as
baits to their cupidity, of the fertile settlements that here awaited
them. The conflict was brief. Jestyn had little to oppose to men who
were resolved to possess themselves of the country. Unable to protract
the contest, he abandoned his lordship of Glamorgan to the invader, and
retired into obscurity--there to meditate on his own folly, and the
degradation to which it had reduced him.
The Normans, as usual, took the “lion’s share.” They divided the best
portions of the soil--all that was most pleasant and productive--among
themselves; and left only the mountainous and craggy ground to Eineon,
with whatever enjoyment a sense of gratified revenge, and the voluntary
subjugation of his country, was calculated to furnish. From this moment
the Normans were established in Wales; and soon began to erect those
monuments of their sway, which it is our present object to notice and
illustrate.
[Illustration]
<g>Curthose Tower.</g>--The apartment where Prince Robert was confined by his
unnatural brother, is traditionally known as “Curthose’s Tower.” So in
Chepstow Castle, the keep is distinguished as “Marten’s Tower;” but
between the fate of the two prisoners, who have left their names thus
associated, there is no resemblance. The more illustrious the captive,
the more dismal was the cell in which he was immured. It must have been
at all times a wretched dungeon, such only as a malignant fiend would
have assigned to its human victim. A ray of light, barely sufficient to
distinguish the difference between night and day, is admitted by a small
square hole perforated through the wall upwards; and the mere fact of
his having existed in this dreary cell for the long period of twenty-six
years, proves that Robert Curthose must have possessed no ordinary
degree of fortitude and resignation. But the courage inspired by
conscious innocence is proof against the machinations of Fortune--
“He that has light within his own clear breast,
May sit i’ th’ centre and enjoy bright day;
But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts,
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun--
Himself is his own dungeon.”
The sufferings inflicted upon Robert in this dismal prison, are a theme
on which the old chronicles dilate with painful minuteness. It would be
a relief to imagine that the acts of wanton cruelty practised upon the
defenceless victim, may have been, like many other points of history,
exaggerated or misrepresented; but, taken in connection with other deeds
of the time, there is but too just grounds to conclude that the story of
Robert’s imprisonment, and the tortures with which it was accompanied,
is no fable, but one of those tragical dramas of real life, to which the
force of imagination can impart no additional horror. The subject,
although referred to in the previous volume of this work, may justify a
few more extracts:--
“But long it was not ere Duke Robert, weary of this unwonted duresse,
sought to escape; and having to walke in the Kinge’s meadows, forests,
and parkes, brake from his keepers without any assisters, or meanes for
security; who being missed was presently pursued and taken in a
quagmire, wherein his horse lay fast. Whereupon the King hearing of this
attempt, considering that woods were no walls to restrain the fierce
lyon, and that to play with his claws was to endanger the state,
commanded him not onely a greater restraint and harder durance, but
also--a thing unfit for a brother to suffer, and most unworthy for
Beauclearke to act--both his eyes to be put out. To effect this truly
barbarous act, he caused his head to be held in a burning basin--thereby
avoiding the deformity of breaking the eye-balls--until the glassie
tunicles had lost the office of retaining their light.”
But at last, after twenty-six years’ imprisonment, “through griefe
conceived at the putting on of a faire new roabe--(too little for the
Kinge himselfe, and therefore, ‘in kindnesse,’ says the Chronicle, ‘sent
to Duke Robert to weare’)--he grew weary of his life, as disdaining to
be mocked with his brother’s cast cloaths; and cursing the time of his
unfortunate nativity, refused thenceforth to take any sustenance, and so
pined himselfe to death.”
<g>Cardiff</g>, in later times, was a point on which Owen Glendower discharged
his vengeance. The inhabitants of Glamorganshire, as descendants of the
Norman conquerors above named, were pre-eminently distinguished for
their loyalty to the King, and their oppression of the natives. But now
they were to feel “the dire resentment of an irritated injured
countryman.” The visit of Ivor Bach to Fitz-Hamon was not more welcome
than this of Owen to his descendants. “Ivor Bach, a Briton,” says
Camden, “who dwelt in the mountains, a man of small stature but of
resolute courage, marched by night with a band of soldiers, and seized
Cardiff Castle, carrying away William, Earl of Gloucester, Fitz-Hamon’s
grandson by the daughter, together with his wife and son, whom he
detained prisoners until he had received full satisfaction for all
former injuries.” The residence of this renowned Briton was Castell
Goch, an outport of Cardiff. He was attached to the daughter of
Jestyn-ap-Gwrgant above named; and being rejected as a suitor for her
hand, he stormed Cardiff Castle, carried her off by force; but, being
overtaken in his retreat near a valley called Pant-coed Ivor, he fell
under the swords of his pursuers.
To return to Glendower: “Having burnt, pursuant to his desolating
system, the Bishop’s palace of Llandaff and other houses, he proceeded
to Cardiff, which he also consigned to the flames.” The town in these
days contained many religious houses--“a goodly priory founded by
Robert, the first Earl of Gloucester; a priory of Black Monks, or
Benedictines; a house of Black Friars in Crokerton Street; a house of
Grey Friars, dedicated to St. Francis, under the custody or wardship of
Bristol; and also a house of White Friars.” None of these houses
experienced any favour from Glendower except the Franciscans, who,
having been firm adherents to King Richard, and on good terms with Owen,
escaped the conflagration; for the whole town was burnt down except the
street where their monastery stood. In this destructive raid through
Glamorganshire, he demolished the ancient Castle of <g>Penmarc</g>, which
belonged to Gilbert Humphreville, one of Fitz-Hamon’s knights, before
named; and which has remained in ruins ever since.[388] But we need not
prosecute these records of a barbarous age further than our subject
demands.