You probably knew that rendering a castle indefensible, is called slighting? Which must have a connection with the same term for disrespect today. You also knew that an arrow slit in the stone of a castle wall is also called a loophole. Didn't you? I didn't!
Life, thank God, is not all about politics or sport or the daily grind, fulfilling, interesting and rewarding though they might hopefully be. Sometimes one is fortunate enough to have the opportunity to visit somewhere new, take a look, enjoy it, discover stuff that you didn't know before.
We decided to go somewhere we'd never been to before (leisure-wise anyway) - north Wales - and in particular, given my family surname, Conwy and its castle. Now I know there's a vowel missing, but if you've ever been to north Wales, there's very few vowels to be had. I'm firmly of the belief that Lynyrd Skynyrd came from there ;) And anyway my lot come from the west coast of Ireland so it's a tenuous link but, in terms of choosing a location for a visit, 'why not'?
Anyway, we booked a nice hotel with a spa, getting a good deal at this time of year, but actually £50 a head per night is probably less than you'd pay in a travel lodge in most parts of the country. This place - the Bodysgallen Hotel and Spa - just outside Llandudno is fantastic. A National Trust hotel (no I didn't either - it's one of three in the UK); an old hall/manor house with grounds, gardens, cottages etc. We arrived to find we'd been upgraded to one of their 'principle suites' (as if I have any principles? ;) ).
A lovely suite with a bed big enough for three (as my wife pointed out - sadly my enquiry to room service proved futile) two bathrooms and a sitting room. Use of wonderful panelled library, drawing room, reading rooms and dining room as well as spa; swimming pool 'sawn off' (kids phrase) steam rooms etc.
It was very posh, but in many ways like being at home: the central heating clanged in the early hours, the floors creaked a bit, there was no hot water in 'my' bathroom out of the hot tap. But loads out of the cold tap! There were two small, discrete television sets, one in the bedroom and one in the sitting room, both unused for years would be my guess.
You even got a nice little hat to wear whilst drinking your tea. It was for holding the hot handle of the pot (that took some working out).
And then, just to prove it was an inspired choice, we looked at 'what's on' locally to discover Moscow City Ballet performing Swan Lake at the 'Venue Cymru' in Llandudno and some tickets still available!
Now back in 1789, my first date with She Who Must Be Obeyed was a performance of Swan Lake at the Birmingham Hippodrome. No word of a lie. And this Moscow City thing was part of their 25-year celebrations. You couldn't make this stuff up.
We went and it was just wonderful, really brilliant - I don't know where they're playing next in the UK but if you get the chance, go see. Really. Dates here.
Anyway then we visited the castle. Truly an amazing place. A world heritage site and scheduled ancient monument. Built at the behest of Edward I (Longshanks) in 1283-89 as part of a programme to subjugate the unruly Welsh (good luck with that). It was completed in four years at a cost of £15,000. Edward I (who was actually Edward IV [at least] if you're counting) was besieged there in December 1294.
Richard II also took refuge at Conwy Castle in August 1399 during his dispute with Henry Bolingbroke (later Henry IV) and it was in the chapel that Bolingbroke's supporter the Duke of Northumberland swore allegiance to Richard, before betraying him two days later.
The Castle was also taken over by Gwiliam and Rhys ap Tudur (cousins of Owain Glyn Dŵr) on April 1st 1401 and held for three months before they handed it back having negotiated a pardon which left some of their supporters a bit disgruntled. Losing your head can do that to a person.
Having fallen into disrepair and been rennovated several times in the intervening years, Conwy had little involvement in the Wars of the Roses but was one of the last strongholds of the Royalists to hold out against Cromwell's Parliamentarians in 1646.
But hey you can google the history as easily as I can.
Now I had always thought of castles as being fortresses where each tower served a similar function - i.e. protection for those on the inside and enabling them to delver maximum weaponry against those attempting to breach the defences.
Other towers, further back, include a prison tower, kitchen tower, bakehouse tower and stockhouse tower all 'in front' of of the 15 foot-thick East Gate (of which more in a minute). Each of these towers were effectively made up of circular rooms, with fireplaces, latrines, windows, arrow slits (which are also known as 'loopholes' - I didn't know that!) etc, with varying degrees of comfort, luxury or functionality, depending upon whom and how they served.
The prison tower, for example had a four-foot drop from the strong door into the room housing petty criminals, making it even more difficult for them to get out of it. However, underneath that room, accessible only by a hatch, is the dungeon, with no light and not much hope.
The final two towers are beyond the East gate which runs from side to side of the castle effectively dividing the whole castle into 2/3 and 1/3, between the 5th and 6th towers. Essentially this wall provides the final protection for the King/garrison. They have the town walls, the outer castle walls, then, when all else fails, the area behind the east gate as a final area of refuge. Beyond this wall (gate) are the King's tower and the chapel tower, as well as the King's and Queen's chambers - luxurious rooms where they would be served by their own entourage, cooks maids etc.
Although, being a coastal castle but not designed to protect from a seaward invasion, the castle already featured a 'wicked little wicker gate'* in the form of a separate entrance at the seaward side of the structure where the King could enter without going through the whole place and where supplies (secret female supplies perhaps? this was Edward I not Edward II)) could also gain access to his realm. However that entrance was never breached in conflict.
Finally two things: This (above) was the extent of health and safety, which I found refreshing, but I wouldn't want to take toddlers or even kids under the age of seven to the place, it would do your head in.
Secondly and finally, this image is interesting - taken from the walls of the Castle:
Central is the suspension bridge built by Thomas Telford in 1826, right is the tubular railway bridge built by Robert Stevenson (son of George Stevenson of 'the Rocket' locomotive fame) in 1848, linking the two sides of the Conwy Estuary and both, smaller versions of the massive bridges built by the same people, which still cross the Menai straights linking Wales with Anglesey today.
Finally just to show I'm a genuine tourist I went to the smallest house in Britain, which is in Conwy. Conwy itself is a lovely small town and nearby Llandudno is, from this visit, a really nice place, bigger than I'd expected, but a clean, well maintained regency style coastal town that felt really rather nice, as opposed to being run down or on its uppers.
Anyway..
Thanks for reading.
*Little Wicked Wicker Gate:
The Castle
All through that summer at ease we lay,
And daily from the turret wall
We watched the mowers in the hay
And the enemy half a mile away
They seemed no threat to us at all.
For what, we thought, had we to fear
With our arms and provender, load on load,
Our towering battlements, tier on tier,
And friendly allies drawing near
On every leafy summer road.
Our gates were strong, our walls were thick,
So smooth and high, no man could win
A foothold there, no clever trick
Could take us, have us dead or quick.
Only a bird could have got in.
What could they offer us for bait?
Our captain was brave and we were true....
There was a little private gate,
A little wicked wicket gate.
The wizened warder let them through.
Oh then our maze of tunneled stone
Grew thin and treacherous as air.
The cause was lost without a groan,
The famous citadel overthrown,
And all its secret galleries bare.
How can this shameful tale be told?
I will maintain until my death
We could do nothing, being sold;
Our only enemy was gold,
And we had no arms to fight it with.
And daily from the turret wall
We watched the mowers in the hay
And the enemy half a mile away
They seemed no threat to us at all.
For what, we thought, had we to fear
With our arms and provender, load on load,
Our towering battlements, tier on tier,
And friendly allies drawing near
On every leafy summer road.
Our gates were strong, our walls were thick,
So smooth and high, no man could win
A foothold there, no clever trick
Could take us, have us dead or quick.
Only a bird could have got in.
What could they offer us for bait?
Our captain was brave and we were true....
There was a little private gate,
A little wicked wicket gate.
The wizened warder let them through.
Oh then our maze of tunneled stone
Grew thin and treacherous as air.
The cause was lost without a groan,
The famous citadel overthrown,
And all its secret galleries bare.
How can this shameful tale be told?
I will maintain until my death
We could do nothing, being sold;
Our only enemy was gold,
And we had no arms to fight it with.
Edwin Muir
I had to study Edwin Muir at A level. It was for the best that he wasn't a stand-up comedian in my opinion.
Goodness me Mark you were only a stones throw away :) North Wales is indeed wonderful that's why I moved :)
ReplyDeleteJP.