Hawarden, usually pronounced Harden, is the name of a large market-town, far removed from the centre and seat of trade and empire, in Flintshire, North Wales, six miles southwest from the singular and ancient city of Chester, of which it may be called a suburb. It is not pretty, but a clean and tolerably well-built place, with some good houses and the usual characteristics of a Welsh village. The public road from Chester to Hawarden, which passes by the magnificent seat of the Duke of Westminster, is not, except for this, interesting to the stranger. There is a pedestrian route along the banks of the river Dee, over the lower ferry and across the meadows. But for the most part the way lies along dreary wastes, unadorned by any of the beautiful landscape scenery so common in Wales. Broughton Hall, its pleasant church and quiet churchyard, belonging to the Hawarden estate, are passed on the way. The village lies at the foot of the Castle, and outside of the gates of Hawarden Park. The parish contains 13,000 acres, and of these the estate of Mr. Gladstone consists of nearly 7000. The road from the village for the most part is dreary, but within the gates the park is as beautiful as it is extensive. Richly wooded, on both sides of its fine drive are charming vistas opening amongst the oaks, limes and elms. On the height to the left of the drive is the ancient Hawarden Castle, for there are two—the old and the new—the latter being the more modern home of the proprietor.
The ancient Castle of Hawarden, situated on an eminence commanding an extensive prospect, is now in ruins. What, however, was left of the old Castle at the beginning of the century stands to-day a monument of the massive work of the early masons. The remnant, which ages of time and the Parliamentary wars and the strange zeal of its first owner under Cromwell for its destruction, allowed to remain, is in a marvelous state of preservation, and the masonry in some places fifteen feet thick. There is a grandeur in the ruin to be enjoyed, as well as a scene of beauty from its towers. The old Castle, like the park itself, is open to the public without restriction. Only two requests are made in the interests of good order. One is that visitors entering the park kindly keep to the gravel walks, while the other is that they do not inscribe their names on the stone-work of the ancient ruin, which request has been unheeded.
This ancient Castle was doubtless a stronghold of the Saxons in very early times, for it was found in the possession of Edwin of Mercia at the Norman Conquest, and was granted by William the Conqueror to his nephew, Hugh Lupus. In later times Prince Llewelyn was Lord of Hawarden, of which he was dispossessed by his brother, David. It was only after Wales was conquered that Hawarden became an English stronghold, held against the Welsh.
The Castle had its vicissitudes, both as to its condition and proprietorship, for many years, even generations. Somewhere between 1267 and 1280 the Castle had been destroyed and rebuilt. It was rebuilt in the time of Edward I or Edward II, and formed one link in the chain by which the Edwards held the Welsh to their loyalty. Its name appears in the doomsday-book, where it is spelled Haordine. It was presented by King Edward to the House of Salisbury. Then the Earls of Derby came into possession, and they entertained within its walls Henry VII in the latter part of the fifteenth century. During the Parliamentary wars it was held at first for the Parliament, and was taken by siege in 1643. The royalists were in possession two years later, and at Christmas time, in 1645, Parliament ordered that the Castle be dismantled, which was effectively done. The latest proprietor of those times was James, Earl of Derby. He was executed and the estates were sold. They were purchased by Sergeant Glynne, Lord Chief Justice of England under Cromwell, from whom in a long line of descent they were inherited, upon the death of the last baronet, Sir Stephen Glynne, in 1874, by the wife of William E. Gladstone. Sergeant Glynne's son, Sir William, the first baronet, when he came into possession, was seized with the unaccountable notion of further destroying the old Castle, and by the end of the seventeenth century very little remained beyond what stands to-day.
