A DAY AT CARISBROOK CASTLE
This is an extract from Black's Guide to the Isle of Wight, 1870
A
chiefless castle, breathing stern farewells
From
gray and ivied walls where Ruin greenly dwells.
BYRON.
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The
different historical periods through which the castle has passed might
easily be inferred from a mere cursory examination of its ruins. The Keep is mainly Saxon, but retains some precise indications of having
been founded upon a previous Roman fortress, while there are not wanting
traces of even those wild but gallant British tribes who so stoutly
resisted the legions, and so often brought disgrace upon the standards of
the Cæsars. The fine gateway through which we entered, with its stout
machicolated towers, recalls the days of the Roses, when Edward
Woodville lorded it over the Isle of Wight. The ground-plan of the castle,
with its pentagonal arrangement, represents the additions to its
fortifications made in the reign of Elizabeth under the direction of an
Italian engineer named Genobella. The ruined chapel reminds us of its
founder, Lord Lymington, who was governor of the castle in the days of
George II. A dilapidated window, with a few rusty bars, brings back the
storm and shadow of the Civil Wars, being pointed out as that through
which Charles I., a king, but a prisoner, vainly attempted to escape.*
Thus, almost every era of English history has some association with the
ruined stronghold.
* The actual window, however, was an aperture further to the east, but now blocked up, though still recognisable in the exterior of the wall nearly adjoining the only buttress on this side of the castle.
Every
ancient ruin is, as it were, a picture in many panels. Looking in this
light at Carisbrook Castle, we will endeavour, though with an unskilful
brush, to depict its most interesting “pictorial effects.”
The tin trade, which first brought England into connection with the rest of the civilized world, appears to have had its depot in the Isle of Wight, and the route by which it is supposed the caravans conveyed their stores across the island must have passed within a bow-shot of the present position of Carisbrook Castle.
It
is probable, therefore, that a site so commanding was early recognized, in
a military point of view, by the Britons, and there is reason to believe
that a Celtic (or British) encampment was formed upon it.
When
the Romans occupied the island their military skill soon seized upon the
strategical advantages of the British camp, and they erected a fortress
upon its site. In like manner, the Saxons rehabilitated—if we may use
the expression—the Roman stronghold, and undoubtedly formed the nucleus
of the later feudal castle.
After
the Battle of Hastings, William distributed with lavish liberality the
riches of the conquered land among his followers. The Isle of Wight fell
to the share of one of the most powerful, a knight ready both in council
and action, William, son of Osbert, or Fitz-Osbert. This sagacious Norman
repaired and enlarged the Saxon fortress, adding what is called the baseceurt
to the Saxon keep, and
constructing strong stout walls, which included a space of an acre and a
half. In the castle he had erected, he often held high revels, and,
imitating the example of his royal master, he divided the surrounding
country among his faithful vassals, who afterwards held their estates of
“the Honour and Castle of Carisbrook.”
William
Fitz-Osbert died, as became so bold a warrior, on the red battle-field,
and his honours passed to his son; but Count Roger, as he was called, was
neither so prudent nor so able as his father, and rebelling against King
William, was cast into prison and deprived of his possessions. Thus the
Castle of Carisbrook fell into the hands of the king.
King
William only paid one visit to his island-fortress, and that was in an
hour of peril, which vividly brought out the manly qualities of his kingly
mind. His half-brother, Odo, bishop of Bayeux, half warrior, half priest,
who bad received from King William the earldom of Kent, and fat estates
and manifold honours, during the Conqueror’s absence in Normandy (1081),
collected a large and powerful following in the Isle of Wight, and
prepared to quit England for Italy. The king, apprised of the ambitious
Odo’s design, suddenly returned, and summoned to Carisbrook Castle his
knights, and men-at-arms, and other vassals.
They met in the Royal Hall, by the shifting light of a hundred torches, which wavered and flickered merrily enough upon the glittering armour of the knightly throng. William, with moody brow and angry eye, sat in stern silence upon the dais; and when the murmur of voices was hushed, he recounted, one by one, the offences which Odo had done against him. “He has despoiled the church—he has wronged the state—has sought to seduce from their standard my soldiers who were designed to protect England. Tell me now,” he cried, “how shall I act towards such a brother I”
Odo
was a prelate and a noble—wealthy, powerful, and not over-slow in his
punishment of an enemy. What marvel, then, that out of all that knightly
gathering not one dared raise his voice against him?
“Seize
him!“ shouted the Conqueror, as if resolved to construe their silence
into an acknowledgment of his brother’s offences; “seize him, and let
him be closely guarded!“
But
not a knight laid his finger upon the prince of the church. All stood mute
and aghast at the king’s wrath. With instant decision, he sprang from
his seat, strode through his astonished followers, and grasped his
brother’s robes.
Whereupon
Odo exclaimed, “I am a priest, and a servant of the Lord! None but the
Pope has the right to judge me.”
But
the monarch, prepared for the crafty excuse, replied,— “I do not
punish thee as a priest; but as my own vassal, and a noble, whom I myself
have made.”
And
Odo was surrounded by his sovereign’s guards, and in due time despatched
across the seas, and imprisoned in a Norman fortress.*
*
Ordericus Vitalis, Hist. Eccles., book iv.
Let the years roll
by, and bear with them the names and deeds of many a famous knight and
stout soldier, who in due succession governed the Isle of Wight, and
maintained a splendid state in Carisbrook Castle. What legends, what
quaint stories, what seemingly extravagant romances, its ivied stones, had
they but tongues, could tell! Fair dames and gallant knights; the brawl,
the fight, the wassail; love, jealousy, sorrow, ambition, hate,
revenge—all have mingled their weird influences to shed a
poetry and a mystery upon the ruined ramparts of
Carisbrook. Like the sea, it holds a thousand treasures which it will
never unbosom.
In
1377, the Castle was surrounded with the din of battle. A large body of
French rovers landed on the east shore of the island; forced their way
through its valleys and over its hills swept through Newport, and encamped
beneath the walls of Carisbrook. Finding it too strong to be carried
without regular military approaches, and being unprovided for a regular
siege, they attempted to capture it by a coup-demain,
but fell into an ambuscade planned by Sir Hugh Tyrrel, the governor,
and were cut to pieces—not a fugitive escaping to tell the French
maidens of the beautiful island-glades. So great was the slaughter, that
the islanders (according to a very doubtful tradition) called the fight
thus easily won the battle of the Noddies, or simpletons, and the spot where the chief rush of the
mêlée took place is still
called the Noddies’, or Node Hill.
The
Castle received a distinguished prisoner in 1397,—the Earl of Warwick,
who had joined “ the Fitzalan Conspiracy” against Richard II., and was
saved from the scaffold by the earnest solicitations of the Earl of
Salisbury. “Earl of Warwick,” said his judges, when announcing the
king’s clemency, “this sentence is very lenient, for you have merited
to die as much as your compeers; but the excellent services rendered by
you in times past to King Edward of blessed memory, as well on this as on
the other side of the sea, have saved your life, and it is ordered that
you banish yourself to the Isle of Wight, taking with you wherewithal to
maintain your state as long as you live, and never quitting the island.”
Humphrey
the “good” Duke of Gloucester,—Richard Duke of York who perished at
Agincourt,—Edmund Duke of Somerset,—Anthony, the valiant and
accomplished Lord Scales, the very mirror of knighthood, and chiefest
ornament of the fourth Edward’s court,—Sir Edward Woodville, a
gallant and courteous gentleman, who kept up a brave splendour at
Carisbrook—and Richard Worsley, a favourite councillor of Henry the
Eighth’s, were among the captains of Carisbrook Castle and lords of the
Isle of Wight.
In
Elizabeth’s reign, during the panic caused by the fitting out of the
Spanish Armada, the Castle was repaired, strengthened, and enlarged under
the directions of a famous Italian engineer, Genobella. It was once
visited by James I and twice by Prince Charles, who “hunted in the parke,
and killed a bucke,” and otherwise amused their idle hours during their
brief excursions.
At
the outset of the great Civil War it was garrisoned by a small detachment
of Royalist troops under a chivalrous cavalier, Colonel Brett. The wife of
the governor of the island, the Countess of Portland, and her five
children, were intrusted to their loyal care, and all hoped, in the stout
castle, to secure a pleasant asylum. But the inhabitants of Newport were
fiercely Parliamentarian, and assisted by 400 naval auxiliaries,
resolved upon seizing the Castle, and holding it for the Parliament. The
besiegers were numerous, well provided with artillery, and easily
supplied with stores. The garrison consisted but of a few invalided
soldiers, and had but three days’ provisions. “There seemed no
alternative,” says a recent writer, “but an unconditional surrender.
In these critical circumstances, their only resource—but it was
sufficient—was the hero-heart that beat in the bosom of the Countess. As
she leapt upon the ramparts, with a lighted match in her band, admiration
insensibly stirred the minds of those who gazed upon her. Englishmen
reverenced a true Englishwoman. She spoke—clearly, firmly, without a
faltering accent—’ Grant to us honourable terms; grant to these brave
men safety of life and limb, and permission to go where they will—or,
with my own hand, I will fire the first cannon, and will defend these
walls until they bury us in their ruins!’ The besiegers acceded to her
demands;’ and the Countess retired from the Castle in much honour.
Thirty
years had elapsed since Prince Charles hunted the buck in Parkhurst
Forest, and rested awhile within the towers of Carisbrook Castle, free,
beloved, happy in the prospect of a glorious crown
and a noble people’s affection, rich in personal graces and
intellectual refinements,—when a king, crowned, sceptred, but powerless,
he passed again under the massive archway to the solitude and sorrow of a
prison! At first he was treated with all the respect due to his exalted
dignity. He rode out whenever he pleased, and again hunted the deer in
Parkhurst, though Colonel Hammond rode at his side. The parliament allowed
him d yearly revenue of £5000, and he lived in the state apartments of
the castle—long shewn as King
Charles’ Rooms—surrounded with the ceremonials of royalty.
But
he was gradually stripped of these. His chaplains and faithful attendants
were removed, and others forced upon him, of whom he only knew that they
were chosen by his enemies. He no longer rode abroad, no longer hunted in
the forest, but was constrained to view the bright valleys and sparkling
plains through the bars of his prison window. A decrepit old man was
almost his sole companion.—” He is sent every morning to light my
fire,” said King Charles to Philip Warwick, “and is the best companion
I have had for many months.” Thus “ cribb’d, cabin’d, end
confined,” the unhappy monarch became careless of his attire, in which
once he had so fine a taste; allowed his beard to grow; was wan and
haggard,—” a gray discrowned king.”*
*My
gray discrownéd head,”—the king’s own expression in his “Majesty
in Misery.”
How
the imprisoned king passed his days has been duly recorded by his faithful
attendants. He rose early. He took moderate exercise, walking round the
ramparts, or pacing to and fro the narrow bowling-green, into which
Colonel Hammond had converted “the place of arms.” Of food he ate
sparingly, and his drink at dinner was sack, diluted with two parts water.
He chiefly employed his leisure hours in reading, writing, and meditating,
or in conversation on things human and divine with those who waited about
his person. The principal books he read were Bishop Andrews’ Sermons,
Hooker’s Ecclesiastical Polity, Herbert’s Poems, Fairfax’s version
of Tasso’s “ Gierusalemme Liberata,” and Spenser’s “ Faëry
Queen.” In one of these books he penned a Latin distich, which vividly
illustrates his peculiar cast of thought:-
“Rebus in adversis facile est contemnere vitam;
Fortiter ille facit qui miser esse potest.”
Englished.
In evil times, life we may well
disdain:
He doeth bravely who can suffer
pain.
Two
attempts were made by the Royalists to secure the monarch’s freedom, but
both were ineffectual. He carried on a correspondence with his chief
adherents in cipher; but the cipher was
detected, and the letters were intercepted by the parliamentarian
leaders, who consequently were enabled to frustrate the plans contrived
for his escape.
The
first attempt was made on the night of the 20th of March 1648. Four or
five gentlemen—Firebrace, Worsley, Newland, and Osborn—were on the
watch to assist the king, whose purpose it was to force himself through
his prison window, cross the court of the castle, and reach the
counterscarp. A horse, ready saddled and bridled, was there waiting for
him, in charge of a trusty cavalier, A ride across the island, protected
by the heavy night-shadows, and at the sea-shore was a boat, well-manned,
to bear him to liberty and a throne! The scheme was well-devised, but
failed through the narrowness of the window, which prevented the unhappy
monarch from forcing his person through it.
The
second attempt was made on Sunday night, May 28th, when the king removed
the bars which had impeded him on the former occasion, and might have
escaped, but that the whole details of the project were known to Colonel
Hammond, the governor of Carisbrook, and double guards were placed at
convenient positions, to fire upon any person leaving the castle.
The
king’s captivity came to an end on November 29th. He was roused at the
dead of night by a detachment of Roundhead soldiers, and hurried through
the darkness towards Worsley’s Tower, which stands upon the
north-western shore of the island. Then he embarked with his few
attendants, and crossed the strait to Hurst Castle.
A
brief entry in the register of Carisbrook Church records the king’s
removal :—“The last day of November he went from Newport to Hurst
Castell to prison, carried away by to (two)
troops of horse” Another
pithy passage sums up the ill-fated monarch’s history :—“ In the
year of our Lord God, 1649, January the 30th day, was Kinge Charles
beheaded at Whitehall Gate,”—last sad scene of “that deplorable
tragedy,” as Clarendon calls it, “ so much to the dishonour of the
nation, and the religion professed by it, though undeservedly.”
The
next prisoners in this famous castle were recommended to the humanity of
their gaolers by their innocent youth as much as by their royal blood. The
Princess Elizabeth and the Duke of Gloucester, the daughter and son of “
the Martyr King,” were removed here on the 16th of August 1650.
The Princess Elizabeth was “ a lady of excellent parts, great observation, and an early understanding,” fair, delicate—deformed and bowed down by an unconquerable malady. Her brother has been described by the great Clarendon as “ a prince of extraordinary hopes, both from the comeliness and gracefulness of his person, and the vivacity and vigour of his wit and understanding.” While residing at Carisbrook he was addressed as “ Master Harry,” and a yearly allowance of £1000 was granted both to him and the princess for the maintenance of a decent splendour.
But
within a week after their arrival, the princess “being at bowls, a sport
she much delighted in, there fell a sudden shower, and being of a sickly
constitution it caused her to take cold, and the next day she complained
of headach and feverish distemper, which by fits increased upon her and on
the first three or four days she had the advice of Dr. Bignall, a worthy
and able physician of Newport, and then care was taken by Dr. Treherne,
in London, to send a physician and remedies of election [an astrological
nostrum] to her. But notwithstanding the care of that honest and faithful
gentleman, Anthony Mildmay, Esq., and all the art of her physicians, her
disease grew upon her; and after many rare ejaculatory expressions,
abundantly demonstrating her unparalleled piety, to the eternal honour of
her own memory, and the astonishment of those who waited on her, she took
leave of the world on Sunday the 8th September 1650.” * It is said she
was found lying upon her couch, as if sleeping, her face resting upon an
open Bible, her royal father’s gift. She was buried in Newport church
September 20, 1650.
* “Fuller’s Worthies, ‘ vol,
ii.
The young Duke of Gloucester remained a prisoner in the castle until 1652, when, by permission of Cromwell, he was released and departed into Holland.
We
will now, having concluded our brief historical resumé,
enter the castle by QUEEN
ELIZABETH’S GATE (it
bears a label, E.R. 1598), cross the grassy moat, and pass under the fine
machicolated GATEWAY, erected by
Anthony Woodville, afterwards Lord Scales, about 1464. A portcullis
defends it, and on each side it is strengthened by a round tower. The
stout wooden gates are very ancient. Entering the GREAT
COURT we observe on our
left, the Elizabethan building occupied by Charles 1 after his first
attempt to escape. Here too is the chamber in which it is said that the
Princess Elizabeth breathed her last.
The main buildings (before us) were formerly the
GOVERNOR’S RESIDENCE. Recent repairs, under the direction of Mr. Hardwick the architect,
have brought to light some ancient features of high interest. The great
staircase appears to have been converted out of an Early English CHAPEL, built by William de Vernon, 1184-1217, and the GREAT
HALL (aula regia) of Baldwin de Redvers, 1135-1156, was found to have
been divided into two storeys. The apartments occupied by Charles before
his first attempted flight have been carefully renovated, and a good stone
fireplace, and a hagioscope communicating with the chapel, will attract
attention in the royal “ Presence-Chamber’ The “King’s Bedroom”
was on the upper storey.
The
CHAPEL OF ST. NICHOLAS,
now a most shameful ruin, was built by Lord Lymington, governor of the
island, in 1738, on the site of an ancient fane, which was supposed to be
Saxon in its origin.
The
KEEP, occupying the site of the old Celtic stronghold of the rude fortress
erected by the Saxon Wihtgar, and the stout tower of William Fitz-Osbert,
is still massive and imposing. Its summit overlooks a wide reach of
landscape. The mound whereon it stands is scaled by 72 broken steps. “In
a ruined chamber to the left is the WELL, nearly choked with rubbish, but still deep enough to need
protection, as a very ugly fall may easily be met with by the unwary”
— ( Venables). It failed
during the siege of the castle by King Stephen’s forces in 1150, and
Baldwin de Redvers was consequently forced to surrender. That a similar
catastrophe might not again occur, Count Baldwin sunk, in another part of
the castle-area, the famous WELL,
so great an object of attraction to wondering visitors, from whose
depths (145 feet) the water is drawn up by means of an industrious
donkey and a large wooden wheel. The donkeys thus distinguished have been
remarkable for their longevity one died in 1798, aged 32. A successor
“paid the debt of nature” in 1851, after 21 years’ toil. The present
labourer commenced his honourable service in 1851. The WELL-HOUSE,
dating from the fifteenth century, has been well restored by Mr.
Hardwick.
The
visitor should conclude his examination of the castle by a stroll round
its outworks, and a visit to the TILT-YARD
(formerly the place of arms, and appropriated by Colonel Hammond to
King Charles’s use as a bowling green), and the MOUNTJOY TOWER,
which strengthens the south-east angle of the ramparts.
The return to Newport should be made
by the Node Hill road, passing the New Cemetery, and traversing the green
slopes of Mountjoy—a summer ramble which the pedestrian will not fail to
enjoy.
Behind the Cemetery, and on the way
to Gatcombe, is the Roman Catholic Nunnery, erected in 1866 by the Dowager
Countess of Clare, at a cost of £11,000
[The
word Carisbrook is derived by some authorities from the Saxon
fortress erected by Wihtgar—
i.e., Wihtgarasburgh; by others, from the
compound caer, a fort, and brook,
indicating its position open the Medina river. The parish includes an
area of 7630 acres. Its population, in 1851, was 7630, including918
soldiers at Parkhurst. The vicarage is in the patronage of the Provost and
Fellows of Queen’s College, Oxford, and has supremacy over the rectory
of Northwood.]
A
day at Carisbrooke
This is a pdf version including other parts
of Carisbrooke
30 July 2005