.," amidst the acclaim of the fraternity, who assembled in full force to witness the emony of the passing of the bardic sword over her head. After this the Queen Look her place on a dais, while the Bards saluted and marched in procession before her, the Arch Druid at their head. As they filed past, "Carmen Sylva" presented each with a copy of the verses she had composed in honour of the occasion; to write these she had risen at four o'clock in the morning of that day. This was a frequent practice of the Queen, and is the explanation of the immense amount of work she was able to undertake, even when occupied with the duties of a court at home.

No account of Gloddaeth would be complete without reference to John Williams, who was born in its near neighbourhood, at Aberconway, and who became Archbishop of York under James I. Williams was connected by birth and by marriage with all the leading families of North Wales-Wynns, Penrhyns, Griffiths and others and, after touching almost the highest point of human ambition, he retired broken in health and in spirit, and with the words "Put not your trust in princes" branded upon his heart, to die at Gloddaeth on the anniversary of his birth, in the sixty-eighth year of his age.

Until the last few years of his life, as we are told in the old volumes from the Gloddaeth library, Williams' health was so robust that he never required more than three hours' sleep in the twenty-four to keep him in good condition. His marvellous memory, his powers of application, and his eloquence, made him of mark so early as his sixteenth year, when he entered St. John's College, Cambridge. This eloquence, combined with his courtly manner, secured for Williams the favour of James I., and he was frequently summoned to preach before the King and Prince Henry at Royston and elsewhere.

His rise was rapid; while the address with which he steered the popular Duke of Buckingham through certain troubles that had brought him into ill odour with both King and Parliament, secured for Williams at the time a powerful friend, though the favourite afterwards became his most implacable foe.

James appointed him, in turn, Dean of Salisbury and of Westminster, Privy Councillor, and Lord Keeper of the Great Seal. Objection was raised to this high office being placed in the hands of a Churchman; so assiduous was his attention to his duties, however, and so generous was his manner of dealing with friend and foe alike, that cavil soon ceased. The knowledge also that he displayed of law, and the daring of his decisions in those days of the Star Chamber and of what may be called the Beds of Justice, speedily won for him the admiration and the esteem of all. The Bishopric of Lincoln was the next honour bestowed upon him, and he continued high in the favour of James until the moment when he performed with his own hands the last offices for that monarch on his death in 1625.

When Charles I. came to the throne, a day of trouble for the Bishop set in. He had two powerful enemies, against whom in that day no man might hope to stand. The one was the Duke of Buckingham, the first to urge the young King along that headstrong course which ended in his death and ruin. Earlier grievances against Williams were not forgotten by him; and when he saw how frequently his own ill-judged and impetuous counsels were set aside for the temperate and far-sighted advice of the thoughtful Churchman, his anger passed all bounds. Some there were at the time who, studying the words, written and spoken, of the Bishop, considered that, had his fall not been brought about by the vindictive opposition of Buckingham and the still more fierce and inveterate pursuit of Archbishop Laud, the King might have been induced to adopt the attitude of a constitutional sovereign, and the horrors of the Civil War been thus averted.

Six months after the death of King James, the intrigues of the Duke deprived Williams of the Great Seal. It was well known in the country to whom this step was due, and the unpopularity of Buckingham was thereby greatly increased, which did not cause his ill-will towards the Bishop to grow less. The Duke's death at the hands of Felton, in 1628, seemed to promise that the influence of Williams in the royal chamber might again be felt. It soon transpired, however, that a foe yet more powerful remained behind. This was Laud, whose enmity had hitherto to some degree been veiled, but who now showed that he was determined on his rival's absolute ruin.

Legal proceedings were instituted against Williams, which resulted in one of the most iniquitous trials the Star Chamber had known. Judgment was finally pronounced upon him. He was sentenced to pay a fine of £10,000, to be imprisoned during His Majesty's pleasure, and to be deprived of all his offices and dignities. For the greater part of four years he lay in the Tower of London; then as a matter of expediency he was released, the King, troubled and bewildered by the turn his affairs were taking, thinking that the eloquence and the sound judgment of the Bishop might be of use to him. Awakening remorse, too, led His Majesty to try to atone to his loyal subject for the hardships he had undergone. He therefore restored certain of his dignities to him, at the same time appointing him to the Archbishopric of York. The misguided monarch, however, could not bring himself to follow the advice of Williams, good though from certain points he admitted it to be; and soon afterwards the Bishop found himself at issue with the Parliament on his own

account, owing to the uncompromising attitude he took up with regard to the attacks. the national council was now making on episcopacy.

The position of King and Bishop alike grew critical as the days went on; and in 1642 Williams, now in his sixtieth year, left York and returned to his birthplace in the little town of Aberconway.

Here we find this marvellous man-scholar, lawyer, statesman, and priest as he had been in turn-turning the powers of his vigorous intellect in a new direction. With the quick eye of a born soldier, he saw that the splendid old fortress of Conway, whose proud walls overshadow the manor of Gloddaeth, and which even now, after all the ills it has undergone at the hands of friend and foe alike, is still esteemed the most perfect ruin in Great Britain, might, if a small sum were spent upon it, become a turning-point in the royal fortunes. On the one hand Conway was in direct communication with Ireland, from which the King hoped so much. The other was stretched towards the loyal provinces in the west of England. There would, moreover, Williams considered, always be the possibility of establishing relations by sea between its garrison and Montrose in the north.

No sooner had the masterly mind of the Archbishop grasped this idea than he devoted to the strengthening of the fortifications whatever funds the exactions of the Star Chamber had left him, with those accumulated since that time in his private purse. That done, he fanned the flame of dying loyalty in the heart of Northern Wales, bringing all the powers of his matchless eloquence to bear on his hearers when he spoke of the claims of Crown and of Church. So far did he prevail that troops were raised, funds came in, volunteers were not wanting, and the castle was garrisoned and held against all comers in the name of the King.

On hearing of his magnificent efforts and the self-abnegation he was showing in the cause of one who had treated him so ill, Charles wrote him a succession of letters in acknowledgment of his services. One of them is so characteristic of the Stuart Prince, of his tendency to accept all and give nothing in return, and his readiness to make promises which he must have had no hope, however slender, of being able to fulfil, that it shall be given here in full.

"CHARLES R.

"MOST REVEREND FATHER IN GOD, &c.,

"FROM OXFORD, Aug. 1, 1643.

"We are informed by our servant Orlando Bridgman, not only of the good encouragement and assistance you have given him in our service, but also of your own personal and earnest endeavours to promote it. And though we have had long experience of your fidelity, readiness and zeal in what concerns us, yet it cannot but be most acceptable unto us that you still give unto us fresh occasions to remember it. And we pray you to continue to give all possible assistance to our said servant. And whereas you are now resident at our town of Aberconway, where there is a castle, heretofore belonging to our crown and now to the Lord Conway, which with some change is easily made defensible, but the Lord Conway being imprisoned by some of our rebellious subjects and not able to furnish it as is requisite for our service and the defence of those parts, you having begun at your own charge to put the same into repair, we do heartily desire you to go on in that work, assuring you that whatsoever moneys you shall lay out upon the fortifications of the said castle shall be repay'd unto you, before the custody thereof shall be put into any other hand than your own or such as you shall recommend."

Such was the letter from the royal hand; and on the back of it the Archbishop wrote the following lines:

"I, Jo., Archbishop of York, have assigned my nephew, Mr. Wil. Hooks, Esq, Alderman

of Conway, to have custody of this castle, mentioned in His Majesty's letter under his Signet, until I shall be repay'd the moneys and money-worth disbursed by me in the repair thereof, by virtue of this Warrant. And in case of mortality, I do assign my nephew Gryffith Williams to the same effect.

“Jan. 2, 1643."

The possession of the stronghold thus assured to him so long as it could be held against the Parliamentary forces, the Archbishop brought over for security all his own property of value, which was placed within the walls. He also acceded to the petition of the townspeople and others in the neighbourhood to undertake the charge of their plate, jewels and moneys, each keeping an inventory of his own possessions.

At the end of the year, however, there was committed one of the most unjust and unkingly acts ever laid at the door of the Stuart Prince. Sir John Owen of Clenennan, Colonel in the royal army, made an application to Prince Rupert for the command of the Castle of Conway. This was granted to him, the royal warrant notwithstanding. That which lends a yet more sinister hue to the transaction, is that the Red Prince had been privy to the understanding which Williams had with the King. He was thus aware, not only that the Archbishop was holding the castle as pledge for the whole of his private fortune spent in the royal cause, but that he was responsible for the valuables of the entire province, deposited on the understanding that he should stand security for them. On the Archbishop refusing to give up the castle until reference had been made to His Majesty, Owen surprised and entered it by force.

Williams then despatched Captain Martin, one of his officers, to Oxford, to lodge a complaint against Owen, and to implore of the King that he would at least permit the Archbishop and representatives of the abused inhabitants to appear before the Assembly for redress. Captain Martin was allowed to wait on in Oxford for weeks together, and was at length dismissed with the reply that his petition should be considered at more leisure.

The following is the wording of the charges against Owen, laid by the Archbishop before his ungracious sovereign :

"I.

"Upon the 9th of May, 1645, Sir J. Owen, Governour of Conway, about seven of the clock in the evening, before the night-guard was sent into the castle, the possession whereof was placed by the King in the hands of the Archbishop of York and his assigns, upon great and valuable considerations, by his gracious Letters and under His Majesty's Hand and Signet, bearing date at Oxford, August 1, 1643, did, with bars of iron and armed men, break the Locks and Doors and enter into the said castle and seize upon the Place, the Victuals, Powder, Arms and Ammunition, laid in by the said Archbishop at his own charge, without the least contribution from the King or the country, for the defence of the place and the service of the King and the said country."

"II.

"That being demanded by the said Archbishop to suffer two of the said Archbishop's men to be there with his rabble of grooms and beggerly people, to see the goods of the country preserved from filching, and the victuals and ammunition from wasting and purloyning, Sir John in a furious manner utterly refused it; though all the company cried on him to do so for his own discharge, yet would he not listen to any reason, but promised the next day to suffer all things to be inventoried, and the Lord Archbishop to take away what he would, Sir John acknowledging all the goods and ammunition to be his,"

"III.

"The next day he receded again from all this, would not permit at the entreaty of the Bishop of S. Asaph, his own Cousin-German, any of the Archbishop's men to go and look to the goods, nor suffer his servants to fetch forth for his Grace's use (who hath lingered long under a great sickness and weakness) either a little wine to make him some cawdles or so much as a little of his own stale beer to make him possets, which all the country conceive to be very barbarous."

The fourth charge is "that Sir John threatens to seize the plate and all things else of value to his own use."

Then follows a petition that some man of more moderation and less precipitancy "should be appointed in Sir John's place, supposing that His Majesty should not be pleased to repossess the Archbishop of the right of the Castle."

Charles, as has been said, refused to stir in the matter, and the consequences were disastrous to his interests. Troops were despatched from the parliamentary forces at Chester, under Colonel Mitton, to besiege the Castle of Conway. Mitton was an able general, and the forces under his command were so numerous that there was no prospect that the fortress would be able to hold out against him, even had not the disunion within been so great, and the resentment of the townspeople, despoiled of their goods and "dealt with more outrageously than by any rebel or enemy," as the Archbishop had said, been so deep-rooted against its commander.

They then made common cause with the Cromwellian party on condition that their property within the Castle should be restored. The Archbishop led his men in person against the hated Owen, but he and all who followed him were careful to proclaim that their attitude was assumed, not towards the King and Crown, but merely against him who had thus fraudulently deprived them of their possessions.

We hear that the Archbishop was wounded in the neck at the forcing of the gates, and a terrible detail of the siege was that, by the command of Mitton, all the Irish found within the walls were tied back to back and thrown into the river Conway. As might be expected, both at the time and since charges of disloyalty and rebellion were brought against the Archbishop. But the difficulty of his position, it must be remembered, was extreme. His followers, who included all his own friends, kinsmen and neighbours, were clamouring for redress; the King refused to hear him, and the presence of the victorious Roundheads rendered it imperative for him either to adopt the attitude in question or to place himself under the banner of the supplanter who had so infamously treated him.

The course he had been compelled to take, justifiable as it was, broke his heart. A mere wreck of his former self, he withdrew shortly afterwards from public life, and expired during a visit he paid to Gloddaeth in 1650, and was buried at Penrhyn, in the church of Llandegai.

It will be remarked that his death took place a year after that of his royal master. The tragedy of Whitehall, indeed, hastened his demise. His days were clearly seen to be numbered from that date, and it is recorded of him that after the event he would frequently rise from his couch at midnight, and kneeling, would pray that the nation might not be called on to suffer for its terrible sin.

Thus lived and died one who was closely connected by birth, by marriage and by friendship with the House of Mostyn, and who, hand in hand with Roger, the first baronet, struggled so bravely in a hopeless cause until that moment when, by a curious coincidence, they changed places, and Sir Roger went as a prisoner to Conway Castle, while the priest-militant, who had held the fortress so well, came to his friend's home of Gloddaeth in search of shelter for his dying head.

VOL. IX.-No. 37.

3