Lady Llanofer

We very much regret to announce the death of Lady Llanover, which took place somewhat suddenly at her residence at Llanover on Friday afternoon last, at the advanced age of 95 years.
Down to a few minutes before her dissolution her ladyship bore not the slightest indication that there was anything the matter with her. She had spent the day in bed, and at three o'clock Miss Price served her with luncheon. Suddenly it became apparent that her ladyship had grown unconscious. Mrs. Evans, her maid, was called and the state of unconsciousness continued, and the Rev. John Prys was sent for. He quickly came, but only in time to see the venerable lady pass away.

The Hon. Mrs. Herbert, of Llanarth, her ladyship's only surviving daughter, arrived on Saturday at noon. The three sons of the last named, namely, Colonel Ivor Herbert, of the Grenadier Guards; Major Bleiddyn Herbert, of the 17th Lancers, and Mr. Arthur Herbert, of the Diplomatic Service, arrived on Saturday with their mother.

For the last 20 or 25 years, owing to her advanced age, she was seldom heard of and much more seldom seen. To the present generation of Welsh men and women she was personally an utter stranger, but the mere mention of her name called forth a host of memories of a past when the lady of Llanover was a personage of very great importance indeed. As the wife of a great landowner, Sir Benjamin Hall, once member of Parliament for the county, afterwards Lord Llanover, Privy Councillor, her position among the gentry of Wales was one of great distinction and commanding influence, but her fame was a thing apart from the celebrity of her husband, either as a generous landowner or a great politician. Lord Llanover was immensely popular for his own manifold qualities, but his personality, great as it was, did not eclipse the equally great personality, in Wales at least, of Lady Llanover.

So far back as fifty years ago the name of Lady Hall, "Gwenynen Gwent", [the Bee of Gwent] as she then was known, was familiar throughout the length and breadth of Wales, and revered to a point almost of adoration for the intense sympathy she manifested with all things pertaining to Wales and the Welsh. At a time when it was fashionable to sneer and snub Wales, its people, its language, its literature, its traditions, and its customs, she, although not of Welsh parentage, raised her voice in vigourous protest against the perpetuation of so suicidal a policy, and carried her protest to the length of instituting what was practically a crusade in favour of rehabilitating the national customs of the Cymry in popular estimation, and of calling forth among the Welsh people themselves fresh enthusiasm for all their national characteristics. She soon came to be regarded as a kind of living patron-saint of Welsh literature; with her, enthusiasm for all things Welsh became a passion, whose ardour continued with but slight diminution to the day of her death.

(By our Special Correspondent)
Lady Llanover's ruling passion was her ardent love for the ancient language of the Cymry. For the best part of the 95 years of her pilgrimage on earth she spoke that tongue and devoted time and money to foster and encourage it, and, at her expressed wish, the solemn rites observed yesterday at Llanover, when all that remained of her Ladyship were reverently deposited in the tomb besides her late Lord, were conducted entirely from first to last in the language of the people of Wales.

The Welshmen and Welshwomen present realised to the full the gaping void which her death had created; they mourned the loss of a considerate landowner, but a more bitter pang was the thought that Wales was deprived of a long and steadfast friend, whose love of country had been something far more precious and real than an empty and vapid sentiment. The thought that was uppermost in every mind, and it came with telling-force, was crystallised in the phrase, "We shall never look upon her like again."

It was a heavy and oppressive. The morning dawned with every indication of a storm, but the rain-clouds rolled away only to be succeeded by a thick overhanging mist that enwrapped the country as in a shroud. The midday trains were heavily laden with tenants who were assembling from far and near to pay their last tribute of respect to an indulgent and beloved meistress tir. [landowner]

For many hours the roads leading from Abergavenny, Penpergwm, Nantyderi, and Pontypool towards Llanover Park were traversed by a continuous stream of mourners, on foot, on horseback, and in vehicles, all without exception attired in the deepest of black. Although the funeral was in a sense a private one, the family had extended a ready permission to tenants who desired to attend, and many hundreds availed themselves of that permission accordingly.

THE COFFIN
Shortly after 1 o'clock the remains were brought from the bedroom and placed on a bier in the large central hall to the left of the principal entrance. The body lay in a coffin of oak, protected by a shell of lead, the whole being enclosed in Llanover oak, with heavy brass trimmings, the breastplate bearing the inscription:-

LADY LLANOVER,
Born 21st March, 1802,
Died 17th January, 1896,
Aged 95 years.

The timber of which the coffin was constructed, it is interesting to note, was grown on the Llanover estate, and was part of the same old material from which the coffin of Lord Llanover was made nearly thirty years ago. The timber had been carefully stored in the carpenter's workshops at Llanover since his Lordship's death. His Lordship's coffin was made by the estate workmen at the Hall; so was that of her Ladyship's, the makers being Elias Francis, Owen Lewis (Madog Mon), and Jones, of Haymead Farm, Abergavenny.