Outworks of Raglan.—On this head little remains to be added. The details, given in the first volume of this work, respecting castles of the middle ages, preclude the necessity of our doing more than simply referring the reader to those passages in the description of Rochester and Arundel, which equally apply to Raglan. With respect to the outworks of the latter, a very brief notice may here suffice. By a practical eye the line of fortification may still be traced; and what remains of the original defences thrown up during the siege, shows very clearly that the military engineers employed were men whose skill and science did credit to the age. The vestiges of this lamentable war are mostly observable on the west side of the castle, where a strong bastion, projecting from the exterior wall of the fortification, forms a striking feature of the outworks, and a no less striking contrast with the luxuriant vegetation which now crowns, and almost conceals, these monuments of a barbarous and unnatural war. The point to which we allude, is that represented in the engraving, and entitled the “Avenue,” where the state apartments, unlatticed, roofless, and dilapidated, look down upon the green belt of trees and underwood that surround them with a melancholy aspect—but a melancholy that imparts feelings of thankfulness to the lovers of peace; for it tells very plainly that the devastating storm has long subsided, and that the sunshine of national prosperity and contentment has again visited the scene. The engines of war have disappeared; the ramparts, raised by men for the destruction of their fellow-men, are now razed to the ground. Nature—striving to throw her green mantle of oblivion over a scene from which she was so rudely banished by the violence of war—smiles at her own bloodless triumph, and peoples the over-arching groves with feathered tribes that sing no songs but those of peace and joy—
“Where once the steel-clad warrior trod,
Spring renews her verdant wreath;
And o’er the once ensanguined sod,
Flowers their mingled incense breathe.
Where the clang of clarion rose,
All is silence and repose;
Save where, in yonder halls of state,
The blackbird serenades his mate.”
We now proceed to a brief notice of the environs:[306]—
Raglan Church has little to interest the archæological inquirer beyond its antiquity—and its claim to this distinction is fully vindicated by its appearance. It consists of a nave, side aisles, a chancel, and a square embattled tower, which, with a few trees throwing their shadows over the burial-ground, forms a pleasing landmark in the distance. We had the pleasure of uniting in the Morning Service before leaving the village, and were much gratified by the religious demeanour which pervaded the congregation, and edified by the simple but impressive discourse with which the service was terminated.
Every feature seems stamped with the seal of antiquity; at first sight nothing seems to have been renewed, or removed in the sacred edifice, for at least two centuries. The great-great-grandfathers of the present race may have occupied the same pews, knelt at the same altar, and been addressed from the same pulpit; for the materials of which these are composed seem as if framed to survive kingdoms and empires.
Over the Raglan Vault in the chancel, already noticed, some rusty trophies of chivalry are suspended; and beneath repose several of the ancient lords by whom they were worn, or wielded. To the state of the monument itself, we have already alluded;[307] and judging from that of its prostrate or dislocated compartments, the sculpture must have been among the best specimens of its day, and employed on materials worthy to transmit the family names to posterity; for it is of rare and variegated marble, and appears to have been, according to monkish—but in contempt of all classical—taste, elaborately gilded.
It has been regretted by visitors, that a tomb, in which are deposited the remains of a nobleman—to whom the credit of a renowned invention unquestionably belongs—should not be restored, or at least repaired. By others, who regard it merely as an example of the Arts at that early period, it is only a broken link in the chain of sepulchral associations, which the skill and pencil of the artist can readily supply. There might, indeed, be an appearance of inconsistency—a want of harmony—in restoring the old family sepulchre, while the Castle itself is left to destruction. In certain conditions and situations, a fragment is more interesting than the original monument; and such, perhaps, is the only interest which that in question ought to excite. But with regard to the noble dust, we need only say—
“Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven;
Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave,
But not remembered in thy epitaph.”
The family residence, more immediately connected with that of Raglan, and to which, in the course of this article, special attention was directed in our notice of the royal visit to the Marquess of Worcester, is—