In the following year there is an Order “That the Castles of Hawarden, Flint, and Ruthland be disgarrisoned
and demolished, all but a tower in Flint Castle, to be reserved for a gaol for the County”; and a confirmation of it follows in the next year, dated 19th July, 1647.
These orders were no doubt forthwith executed, and of Flint and Rhuddlan little now remains. At Hawarden gunpowder has been used to blow up portions of the Keep. Sir William Glynne, son of the Chief Justice, twenty or thirty years later, carried further the work of destruction. Sir John Glynne, too, is said to have made free with the materials of the Castle, and certain it is that a vast amount has been carted away and used up in walls and for other purposes. His successors, however, have done their utmost to make amends for these ravages, and to preserve the ruins from further injury. The entrance and the winding stair by which the visitor mounts to the top of the Keep are a restoration skilfully effected not long ago under the direction of Mr. Shaw of Saddleworth. The view embraces a wide range of country, North, East, and South, extending from Liverpool to the Wrekin: on the West it is bounded by Moel Fammau or Queen Mountain, on the summit of which is seen the remnant of the fallen obelisk raised to commemorate the 50th year of the reign of George III. Round about lie the Woods and the Park, presenting a happy mixture of wild and pastoral beauty; while close beneath the Old stands the New Castle, affecting in its turreted outline some degree of congruity with its prototype, but much more contrasting with it in its home-like air, and the luxury of its lawns and flower-beds.
Not less striking is the view of the Ruins from below. Here judgment and taste have combined with great natural advantages of position to produce an exceedingly picturesque effect. From the flower garden a wide sweep
of lawn, flanked by majestic oaks and beeches, carries the eye up to the foot-bridge crossing the moat, thence to the ivy-mantled walls which overhang it, and upward again to the flag-topt tower that crowns the height. Clusters of ivy, and foliage here and there intervening, serve to soften and beautify the mouldering remains. The scene brings to our minds the words of the poet—
“The old order changeth, yielding place to new”;
and, conscious as we may be that society in our day has its dangers and disorders of a different and more insidious kind, we are thankful that our lot is not cast in the harsh and troublous times of our history. All around us the former scenes of rapine and violence are changed to fertility and peace. The Old Castle serves well to illustrate the contrast. Its hugely solid walls, reared 600 years ago with so much pains and skill to repel the invader and to overawe the lawless, have played their part, and are themselves abandoned to solitude and decay. Within the arches which once echoed to the clang of arms the owls have their home; while the rooks from the tree-tops around seem to chant the requiem of the past.
The Church.
