Small narrowe streetes through all the towne ye have,
Yet in the same are sundrie houses brave;
Well built without, yea trim and fayre within,
With sweete prospect, that shall your favour win.
The river Oske and Hondie runnes thereby,
Fower bridges good, of stone stands on each streame.”
Though a town of great antiquity, Brecon, when compared with many places in Wales, is almost modern, for it seems to have first come into prominence in the days of the Normans, who out of the ruins of the old Roman fortress already referred to built the first stronghold here. It was, of course, a walled town, with ten turrets and five gates, and traces of this old wall still exist. The castle was a strong one, occupying a commanding position. In one of its towers Morton, Bishop of Ely, lay in prison, given into the custody of the Duke of Buckingham by Richard III., who was jealous of the bishop’s power; and here the gaoler and prisoner, neither of them well disposed towards the king, plotted to marry Henry of Richmond with the Lady Elizabeth, and thus heal the breach between the rival houses of York and Lancaster. So Morton was allowed to escape, while Buckingham, marching against the king, fell into his enemy’s hands and lost his head at Salisbury. The Castle of Brecon met its fate in sorry manner. When the great Civil War broke out, and king and Parliament came to blows, the people of the town, fearing that the fortress would be garrisoned by one party or the other, and that the place would be besieged and themselves visited with all the danger and suffering that waits upon active war, took matters into their own hands by demolishing the stronghold, of which only some ivy-clad walls, with the Ely tower, now remain, overlooking the Honddu. Charles I., in his feverish flight, after the disastrous battle of Naseby, put up for a time at Priory House; and in a humble hostelry in High Street, then known as “The Shoulder of Mutton,” Mrs. Siddons, queen of actresses, was born in 1755, her parents being temporarily resident here.
The chief glory of the town in these days is the Priory Church of St. John, founded by Bernard Newmarch, in the reign of Henry I., in the hope of atoning for the murders and other crimes that he had committed in hewing his way to the place of power he occupied in this part of Wales. It is a building of unusual interest, predominantly Norman in style, but with Early English and Decorated additions. Another feature of Brecon is the massive bridge of seven strongly buttressed arches which spans the Usk.
Taking a south-easterly direction, the Usk flows away from the county town, and soon receives a tiny river that comes from the towering heights of the Beacons, locally called “Arthur’s Chair,” and forming one of the finest of the sights which Wales offers to her lovers. “Artures Hille,” says Leland, “is three good Walche miles south-west from Brekenok, and in the veri toppe of the hille is a faire welle spring. This Hille of summe is countid the hiest Hille of Wales, and in a veri cleere day a mannne may see from hit a part of Malvern hilles, and Glocester, and Bristow, and part of Devenshire and Cornwale. There be divers other hilles by Artures Hille, the wich, with hit, be communely caullid Banne Brekeniane.” Wood, in his “Rivers of Wales,” declares that “the well here mentioned does not exist,” so that it would have been better, perhaps, if Leland had done as Churchyard did, who wrote of nothing he had not seen—if his verse is to be taken quite literally. He says:—