Chapter IV: Part 4

This may perhaps account for the marvellous legend, preserved in “The Triads of the Isle of Britain,” concerning “the Palug Cat of the Menai.” A remarkable whale was captured in this Bay in the spring of 1846, and sent to Liverpool for exhibition. The whole shore throughout the district is said to be “a mine of fish.”

Llanvaes Abbey.

About a mile from Beaumaris, near the seat of the widow of late Sir Robert Williams, Bart., and not far from the shore, are yet to be seen, in the walls of a barn, the poor remains of the house of Franciscan friars, founded in the thirteenth century by Llywelyn ab Iorwerth, Prince of Wales, still called by the above name. At the dissolution, the establishment maintained eight friars, of whom two only were allowed to be Welshmen, when the convent and its possessions were sold: they are at present the property of Sir R. B. W. Bulkeley.

Penmon Priory.

Two miles north of Llanvaes Friary, stands this ancient and decayed ruin, consisting at present of little more than the ruinous refectory and part of the church. This was a priory of Benedictine monks, dedicated to St. Mary, founded in the sixth century, and re-endowed in the thirteenth by Llywelyn ab Iorwerth. At its suppression by Henry the Eighth, the revenues were valued at £48 per annum.

Priestholm, or Puffin Island,

A small island, divided by the narrow channel called the Sound from the eastern extremity of Anglesea: its British name, Ynys Seriol, is derived from the residence of St. Seriol upon it in the sixth century: the compound name of Priest-holm originated in its being the occasional retreat of the religious of the neighbouring priory of Penmon. It is also called Puffin Island, from its being annually resorted to by these birds for the purpose of breeding.

This island will afford a day of sport to the disciple of Colonel Hawker—or of information to the industrious antiquary—or amusement to a pic-nic party; and indeed, to all visitors in search of health, pleasure, or the picturesque, who may be sojourning at Beaumaris. It is nearly a mile from the shore, to the edge of which it slopes in verdant turf on each side from its lofty central eminence. In shape it resembles a lemon, extending a mile in length and half a mile in breadth. Near the centre are the ruins of an old square tower, supposed to have been a portion of a religious house, once subordinate to the priory of Penmon; which, from “the odour of sanctity” thrown around it by popular tradition, attracted many devotees, and penitents, and dying persons, to its sacred shrine, either as the subjects of pilgrimage or prayer, or to obtain interment within its holy walls. Giraldus says, “the island was inhabited by hermits, living by manual labour and serving God.” The superior reputation which this monastery enjoyed, induced the Welsh princes, Llywelyn and David, and (after the conquest of the country) Edward the First, to grant to it the revenues of Penmon. Prince Owen Gwynedd, who lies buried here, was the founder; and its sanctuary became the refuge at once of the oppressor and the oppressed, in that lawless age to which it belonged. Little remains to attest the presence of the crowds of devout men that thronged it, or of the noble, the wealthy, or of the poor, that once were interred in its consecrated cemetery. A colony of rabbits has usurped their territory; and swarms of cormorants, stormy petrels, curlews, and _puffin auks_, and, even though but comparatively seldom seen, peregrine falcons hasten to these shores in the summer months, to breed and nurture their young. There is a small house on the island for the man who attends a signal staff erected here in 1826, to form part of the telegraphic communication between Liverpool and Holyhead.

A pleasant aquatic excursion may he made from Garth Point to Puffin Island, passing through the picturesque bay of Beaumaris, the distance being nine miles.

A melancholy interest attaches to this neighbourhood from a most calamitous event which occurred in the bay of Beaumaris, on the night of the 17th August, 1831. On the morning of that day, the _Rothsay Castle_ steamer left the pier-head, Liverpool, for Beaumaris, the number of passengers and seamen being between 120 and 140 souls. After passing the floating light, stationed about 15 miles from Liverpool, the sea became very rough and the wind adverse; and some of the passengers, apprehensive of danger, in vain urged the captain, Lieutenant Atkinson, to return. Between the Great and Little Ormeshead the vessel was beating about for three hours, and soon after passing the latter, night had come on, the sea running high, and the tide ebbing. It was near twelve o’clock when she arrived at the mouth of the Menai Strait, about five miles from Beaumaris. When opposite the tower on Puffin Island, suddenly the steam got so low that the engine would not keep the vessel on her proper course; and she struck on what is called the spit of the Dutchman’s Bank, where she remained immovable till she went to pieces. At least one hundred persons are known to have perished, and twenty-one were ascertained to be saved.

A strict investigation into the causes of this dreadful calamity was subsequently instituted, from which it appeared that the vessel itself was unfit for the station; that there were no guns on board to make signals of distress; that the captain and mate were in a state of intoxication during the time of peril; that there had been great mismanagement and obstinacy on the part of the former, and criminal negligence in omitting to furnish the vessel with necessary apparatus for such an emergency. The most praiseworthy activity is ascribed to the gentry and other inhabitants of Beaumaris, as well as the boatmen belonging to the bay, in rescuing the surviving sufferers, and providing places of decent sepulture for the dead. On this subject, the following testimony, from the pen of Lieutenant Morrison, of the Royal Navy, who has published a Narrative of the unfortunate wreck, is truly valuable:—“The meritorious efforts made by Sir Richard Bulkeley, Bart. and other gentlemen of the neighbourhood, to insure respect to the remains of the unfortunate sufferers, I believe to have been attended with perfect success. Indeed, I saw numerous valuable and portable articles which had been saved, and lodged in the hands of the authorities of Beaumaris, and which might have been very readily abstracted by the finders, to whom they offered great temptation. I was never among the inhabitant of North Wales before, and I must observe that the very excellent conduct of the lower orders on this occasion forms a strong contrast to that I have witnessed on the coasts of Devonshire and the south of Ireland.”

The many accidents in this bay at length induced the corporation of the Trinity House to erect a lighthouse on the south-westerly point of the island, at a part called Trwyn-du, or Black Point, which was finished in the course of the summer of 1838. It is a splendid work of art in the bell form; and contains more courses of masonry under low-water mark than the celebrated Eddystone lighthouse. The light is thrown out to sea by means of a strong reflector erected on the opposite or Anglesea coast. It is worthy of attention, and visitors will find it a pleasant sail from Bangor and Beaumaris.

From April to October, first-class steam-packets regularly arrive from Liverpool every afternoon (except Sunday) about five o’clock at the Bangor Ferry inn (which has lately been much improved and enlarged), and return the next morning between eight and nine o’clock, calling each way at Garth Point and Beaumaris. And we may here add that this is the cheapest and most interesting marine excursion which can be enjoyed from Liverpool.

BEDDGELERT, (_Caernarvonshire_.)

Aber-glaslyn 1½ Caernarvon 13 Llanberis 12 Snowdon Summit 6 Tan-y-Bwlch 10 Tre-Madoc 7

Beddgelert, a village most charmingly situated in a beautiful tract of meadows, at the junction of three vales, near the conflux of the Gwynnant and the Colwyn.

The church is erected on the site of an ancient priory of Augustine monks, with which a convent for nuns was also incorporated. Part of the arches and clustered columns which supported the nave of the priory are still visible in the wall of the church, and there are other remains which prove the original religious establishment to have been of considerable extent. In 1194 it was endowed with lands by Llywelyn the Great; and it is recorded that in those days the prior had fifty cows and twenty-two sheep. In 1283 it suffered from fire, and Edward I. repaired the damages. In 1535 Henry VIII. bestowed it on the abbey of Chertsey, in Surrey; and in 1577 it was made appurtenant to that of Bisham, Berks.

Moel Hebog (the Hawk Hill) rises boldly from the vale in front of the village, which takes its name—Beddgelert, or the Grave of Gelert, from an affecting tradition, which has been made the subject of an admirably pathetic ballad by the Hon. W. R. Spencer. Miss Costello gives this romantic legend with her wonted taste and effect:—

“King John had given to Llywelyn the Great, not only his daughter
Joanna in marriage, but as a prize little inferior, a fine greyhound,
of superior breed and great beauty, who was wont to take the lead in
all his expeditions, and to bring down the game in gallant style.
The usual season of the chase arrived, and the prince, his wife, and
children had repaired to the hunting-ground in this valley: one day
Llywelyn set forth, and had not gone far when he discovered that
Gelert, his favourite hound, had lagged behind; he called him in
vain, and, out of temper and impatient, he continued his way, and
occupied himself in his sport, still, however, dwelling with vexation
on the absence of his constant companion. On his return, as he was
about to enter his dwelling, he was met by Gelert, who leaped upon
him and shewed every demonstration of delight. The prince angrily
drove him off, and, as he did so, remarked that the jaws of the dog
were covered with blood, that blood was on the floor and on the
walls—a strange foreboding of evil stole over his mind: his infant
son had been left in the cradle—no attendant was near—he tracked the
crimson stairs—they led him to the spot where his child reposed—the
cradle was overturned, the infant gone, and a pool of blood was at
his feet.

“Llywelyn allowed himself not a moment’s time for reflection—Gelert
was fawning beside the couch of his murdered child—his fangs were red
with gore—he could not doubt but that the wretched animal had torn
the sleeping babe, and drawing his sword, he plunged it into the body
of the hound. At this instant he heard a cry—he darted forward,
removed the confused heap before him, and, struggling beneath, he
beheld his child uninjured, his tiny hands resting on the body of a
gaunt wolf, which had been killed by Gelert in his defence.

“What was now left for Llywelyn but remorse and late repentance?—he
erected a tomb over the remains of the faithful dog, and the spot is
called ‘the Grave of Gelert’ to this day.

“There is a Welsh adage which alludes to this legend, ‘he repents as
much as the man who killed the dog’—and this would naturally lead one
to imagine that the sad tale were indeed true; nevertheless, the same
is told in many places, and seems originally to have come from the
far East, where almost all beautiful stories had their birth.

“It is said to be engraven on a rock in Limerick; it is told in an
old English romance; it is repeated in France; and it is the subject
of Persian drama!”

Some chroniclers assert, that Prince Llywelyn founded the church of Beddgelert to commemorate the preservation of his son, and as some atonement for slaying his preserver, the faithful hound.

In a field contiguous to the churchyard, is a large stone, which is said to mark the spot where Gelert was buried. Near the stone is a building, now used as a cow-house, which is reputed to have been the residence of the prince.

There is an excellent inn here, the Goat, recently enlarged and improved, not inferior in accommodation to any in Wales. The Caernarvon and Tan-y-Bwlch mail coach passes twice a day through the village. Behind the old public house opposite is an interesting view of a solemn dell. The eye, in surveying this chasm, is relieved now and then by spots of verdure, patches of heath, thinly-scattered sheep, and the beautiful curvature of the mountain. In the Welsh annals this region is styled the Forest of Snowdon. A guide to the many objects of interest in the locality may be procured at any time at the Goat inn. When Mr. Nicholson traversed this part of the country, the name of the guide was William Lloyd, who was also the village schoolmaster, and who thus explained his occupation in a placard stuck upon the door of the inn:—“William Lloyd, conductor to Snowdon, Moel Hebog, Dinas Emrys, Llanberis pass, the lakes, waterfalls, &c. &c.” The name of the present guide is Richard Edwards.

On the road towards Aber-glaslyn, a stone is pointed out by the name of the Chair of Rhŷs Gôch o’r ’Ryri, the famous mountain bard, contemporary with Owen Glyndwr. He was of the house of Havod-garegog, at the entrance into the Traeth Mawr sands, whence he used to walk, and sitting on this craggy seat, composed his poems. Among others is a satire on a fox, for killing his favourite peacock. He died about the year 1490, and was interred in the holy ground at Beddgelert, escaping the vengeance of the English, for inspiring his countrymen with the love of liberty, and animating them by his compositions into a long and gallant resistance to the galling yoke.

The neighbourhood of Beddgelert abounds with objects worthy of the tourist’s attention; and of several of these we will now add a few particulars.

Nant Gwynnant.

Turning to the right hand on crossing the bridge leading from the inn, you follow up the course of a stream that waters one of the most beautiful valleys in Wales. On the left, about half a mile up the valley, is a lofty wood-clad rock, called Dinas Emrys, the fort of Ambrosius, or Merlin Emrys, a magician who was sent for to this place from Caer Merddin (Carmarthenshire) by Vortigern, who was king of Britain from 449 to 466. It was to this place that Vortigern retired, when he found himself despised by his subjects, and unable to contend longer with the treacherous Saxons, whom he had introduced into his kingdom. It is probable that this insular rock afforded him a temporary residence, till be removed to his final retreat in Nant Gwrtheryn, or Vortigern’s Valley, not far from Nevyn, in the promontory of Lleyn. Speed says that Vortigern married his own child by Rowena, daughter of Hengist, the Saxon prince, and had by her one son.—On passing round the foot of another beautiful isolated rock,

Llyn Dinas

(The Pool of the Fort), a lake about a half to three-quarters of a mile in extent, is spread before you. It is entirely surrounded by lofty mountains, the tints of which being of a deeper and browner shade than the generality of Welsh hills, gives a peculiar richness to the confined valley. The road runs close along the shore, overhung by one of the magnificent buttresses of Snowdon: to the right the eye stretches across the lake to the hills which rise from the water’s edge, above which a second tier of mountains appears, the great chain which separates you from the vale of Ffestiniog. The river which feeds the lake winds through the verdant and undulating grounds which spread themselves, a miniature park, between the cottage and the lake. A romantic pass, affording space for the river and road only, leads to a valley totally different from, though not less beautiful than that of Llyn Dinas: the valley forms a bowl among the hills, the bottom is a small grassy plain, here and there dotted with trees, through which the river winds; the sides are magnificent mountains: it is beauty sleeping in the lap of terror.—On the left, the eye is led to

Cwm Llan,

among the deepest recesses of Snowdonia. The immediate boundary of the valley is succeeded by heights rising successively above each other. Immediately above this deep and gloomy gorge towers the monarch of hills, sublime and terrific in his precipitous height, yet presenting in its conical summit, its cairn and landmark, a graceful object, filling up the mountainous gap, the sides of which form a suitable frame to this noble picture. You follow up the course of the stream, through the same enchanting scenery, the road gradually ascending, till you catch through the plantations on the left a view of

Llyn Gwynnant,

stretched below at your feet. This lake and valley are deeply set among the loftiest mountains of Wales or England, and form one of the loveliest pictures in this country. Two or three gentlemen’s residences render this valley cheerful, without destroying its character of seclusion.

Shortly after leaving the lake, the most striking view of Snowdon presents itself; you look across the valley on a huge precipice, over the edge of which, through a wide sweeping dip in the hill, a very picturesque waterfall, Rhaiadr cum Dyli, is projected. Plain indications of its source,

Llyn Llydan,

a highly elevated mountain lake, are apparent; above this rises a dark perpendicular wall of rock, towards the summit of which craggy and sharp ridges run up, and at the junction the towering peak of Snowdon rises: shortly after, you join the road from Capel Curig to Llanberis. Let no inconvenience induce the tourist to relinquish this route.

In the vale of Colwyn, and nearly two miles from Beddgelert, is a small pool, about the size of a good horse-pond, called

Llyn-y-Dywarchen

(Or the Pool of the Sod), first celebrated by Giraldus Cambrensis, in the account of his journey through Wales in the twelfth century, as containing a floating island. This is still in existence, but not more than eight or nine yards in length, and evidently appears to be a detached piece of the turbery of which the bank is composed. There is a small willow-tree growing upon it, and it is carried to and fro by the action of the wind and water. Sometimes it remains near the side of the pool for a considerable while, and it is so large and firm as to bear cattle on it. When it has been dislodged by the wind, a few sheep have often been borne by it to the other parts of the bank.—Within two miles of Beddgelert is situated

Pont Aber-glaslyn

(Or the Bridge of the Conflux of the Blue Pool); it is also called by the inhabitants the Devil’s Bridge; on which account it has sometimes been confounded with the bridge of that name near Havod, in Cardiganshire. In approaching this spot from Beddgelert, the rocks on each side become incomparably grand. The road winds along a narrow stony vale, where the huge cliffs so nearly approach as only just to leave width sufficient at the bottom for the road, and the bed of the impetuous torrent that rolls along the side of it. Here these lofty rocks, which oppose nothing to the eye but a series of the rudest precipices, “raised tier on tier, high piled from earth to heaven,” seem to forbid all further access, and to frown defiance on the traveller.

The bridge crosses the Glaslyn, and unites the counties of Merioneth and Caernarvon. In the span it is thirty feet, and from the water to the parapet forty feet high. There is excellent fishing in this river; it abounds with salmon and trout. Some years ago, there was a noted salmon leap a few yards above the bridge, and in the course of an hour, twenty or thirty fish have been seen attempting to spring over the barrier, but it is now broken down and fallen into decay. The salmon come up the river in the latter end of the year, sometimes as early as the beginning of October, in order to deposit their spawn on the sandy shallows, and are here very plentiful. The fishery belongs to the Wynn family. When the tourist has passed the bridge, and proceeded about one hundred yards on the Tre-Madoc road, he will then see the view to perfection. The elegant and venerable arch clothed with ivy—the foam of the little waterfall almost beneath—the majestic rocks to the right, combining to form one of the finest pictures in Wales.

It was probably from this place that Giraldus Cambrensis asserted of Merionethshire, that “it was the roughest and most dreary part of Wales, for its mountains were both high and perpendicular, and in many places so grouped together, that shepherds talking or quarreling on their tops, could scarcely, in a whole day’s journey, come together.”

There is very good fishing in this neighbourhood, at a lake called Llyn-y-Dinas, about two miles from Beddgelert; the fish are good for the table, of the weight of about half a pound; however, trouts of five or six pounds weight have been taken. There are two boats kept by Robert Roberts; the flat-bottomed one is considered the better and safer for angling. Another lake appears, somewhat smaller, called Llyn Gwynnant, which has been injured by being netted, but still affords fair sport for the angler.

BETTWS-Y-COED, (_Caernarvonshire_.)

Capel Curig 5 Cerniogau Mawr 9½ Llanrwst 4

Bettws-y-Coed (or Station in the Wood), a small village, pleasantly situated on the Shrewsbury and Holyhead road, not far distant from the junction of the Llugwy and the Conway. The church stands in a little cemetery in the centre of the vale, enclosed by a few stately forest trees, and forms a venerable and interesting object. It contains an old monument in memory of Griffith, the son of David Gôch, who was a natural son of David, brother to Llywelyn, the last prince of Wales. He died in the fourteenth century, and is here represented by a large armed recumbent figure in a recess in the north wall. On one side of the figure, there is yet left this inscription,—“_Hic jacet Gruffydd ap Davyd Gôch_: _Agnus Dei_, _misere mei_.” Within a mile distant is a bridge, consisting of a single arch of iron, of 105 feet in the span, and called the Waterloo Bridge from the circumstance of its having been erected in the same year in which the battle of Waterloo was fought. It carries the Holyhead road over the Conway.

Near Bettws-y-Coed is also Pont-y-Pair, a most singular bridge, flung over the Llugwy, consisting of four arches, placed on the rude rocks, which form most durable piers. These rocks are precipitous, and in high floods exhibit to the passenger most awful cataracts below the bridge. The scenery beyond, composed of rocky mountains fringed with woods, is very striking. The river Conway affords good salmon and trout fishing. The remarkably picturesque character of this district is particularly attractive to artists who delight to make sketches from scenes of natural beauty and grandeur.

CADER IDRIS, (_Merionethshire_.)

Dolgelley 5 Dinas Mowddwy 11 Machynlleth 13 Towyn 15

These distances are computed from the summit of Cader Idris.

The mountain of Cader Idris, in height the second in Wales, rises upon the sea-shore, close upon the northern side of the estuary of the small river Disynwy, about a mile from Towyn. It proceeds with almost a constant ascent, first northward for about three miles, then for ten miles further runs E. N. E., giving out from its summit a branch nearly three miles long in a south-westerly direction, parallel to the main ridge. It is very steep and craggy on every side, but the southern descent, especially to the border of Tal-y-llyn lake, is the most precipitous, being nearly perpendicular. Its breadth bears but a small proportion to its length, a line passing along its base, and intersecting the summit, would scarcely equal four miles and a half; and in the other parts it is a mere ridge, whose base hardly ever exceeds one mile in breadth.

Cader Idris is the beginning of a chain of primitive mountains, extending in a N. N. E. direction, and including the Arrans and Arrenigs. It is much loftier and more craggy than the slate and secondary mountains which surround it. Dolgelley is the place from which the ascent to this mountain is usually made.

Several tourists of literary eminence have made the ascent of Cader Idris, and have left on record graphic and animated descriptions of the sublime views which its summit discloses. Mr. Roscoe says—“The following morning promising a fine day, I determined upon making an excursion over Cader Idris. This mountain is one of the most lofty in Wales, and forms a part of the great chain of hills which runs nearly parallel with the coast for many miles, in connection with the Arrans and the Arrenigs, and more inland, towards Corwen, with the Berwyn range. Proceeding over the hill which leads to Towyn, I reached a small lake, and turning to the left, commenced the ascent. After great labour for three or four hours, and consequent fatigue, I reached the summit; and the pool Llyn-y-Cae shewed itself, situated among high rocks, whose weather-beaten cliffs overhang the water; but thick mists, wafted from the sea, prevented an extended view. Mr. Aikin has enriched his narrative with a description of this grand and picturesque scene he witnessed, the following extract from which leaves nothing to be desired:—‘We were now above all the eminences within a vast expanse, and as the clouds gradually cleared away, caught some grand views of the surrounding country. The huge rocks which we before looked up to with astonishment, were now far below our feet, and many a small lake appeared in the valleys between them. To the north, Snowdon and its dependencies shut up the scene; on the west, we saw the whole curve of the bay of Cardigan, bounded at a great distance by the Caernarvon mountains, and nearer, dashing its white breakers against the rocky coast of Merioneth. The southern horizon was bounded by Plinlimmon, the bay of Swansea, the channel, peeping through the opening of the Brecon mountains; and on the east, the eye glanced over the lake of Bala, the two Arrenig mountains, the two Arrans, and the long chain of Berwyn mountains, to the Breiddin hills on the confines of Shropshire. Dimly, in the distant horizon, was beheld the Wrekin, rising alone from the plain of Salop.’

“At the foot of the mountain is the little village of Tal-y-Llyn, which borrows its name from the church at the head of the lake, not unmeetly denominated by the people ‘the Charming Retreat.’ The church, a simple antique building, is dedicated to St. Mary. The parish extends about eight miles, embracing in its circuit a large portion of the mountainous chain. The whole vicinity, wood, and hill, and lake—stirred by the winds, or clothed with the yellow hues of autumn—wore a highly picturesque yet dreary aspect; and I took great delight in exploring a number of bold, romantic streams and falls, all within the limits of this interesting district. Tal-y-Llyn (the Head of the Lake), with its little church, dedicated to St. Mary, stands at the west end of the pool, in a long valley lying below the lofty ranges of Cader Idris. Looking north-east, the vale is contracted by the mountain bases, with their sides broken into a thousand crags, some sharp and conical, and others overhanging, as if ready to fall upon the heedless traveller, who wends his way beneath their shadows. Pen-y-Delyn (or the Harp Rock) is there, bearing a resemblance in its figure to that instrument, with its indented and perforated summit, ready to receive the first breath of the morning, and to herald the rising beam of the great luminary with the fabled music of Memnon; and Llam-y-Ladron too, (or the Thieves’ Leap), the Tarpeian Rock from whose fearful top, it is said, the ancient Britons used to cast their felon brethren.”

Of the heights of Cader Idris, of Arran Vowddwy, and of the Arrenig Vawr, says Mr. Pennant, I am enabled to give a very exact account, by the assistance of the ingenious Mr. M. Hughes, of Bala, who assures me that the Pen-y-Gader is 2858 feet above the level of Dolgelley-green; Arran-Vowddwy, 740 above Llyntegid; and the Arrenig, only 20 yards short of Arran; that the fall from the lake to Dolgelley-green, is 180 yards; so that the real difference of height between the Cader and the Arran is only thirty yards. Two graves, where human bodies were deposited, have lately been discovered at the foot of Cader Idris, under two immense carnedds.

Within the last few years, for the accommodation of visitors, a cottage has been erected on the summit of the mountain, by Richard Pugh, who resides at Dolgelley, and who acts in the capacity of a guide. This has proved of great advantage to visitors, who were not unfrequently assailed by the teeming shower, without an opportunity of shelter; and who had no spot for temporary refreshment while waiting for the dispersion of misty clouds in order to enjoy the exquisite prospect. Here parties or individuals may have all convenient refreshments. The road up the mountain on the Dolgelley side has lately been much improved, so as to enable ladies and gentlemen to ride up to the very top with the greatest ease and safety, which cannot be done on the other side of the mountain without great danger. The charge of the guide for conducting a party to the summit is five shillings, and the same sum is paid for each of the ponies employed in the ascent.

For angling stations, see Dolgelley and Tal-y-Llyn.

CAERGWRLE, (_Flintshire_.)

Chester 12 Hawarden 6 Mold 6 Wrexham 5

Caergwrle was once a flourishing town, but has dwindled into an insignificant village. Its parish church is about a mile distant. There is good reason for believing that Caergwrle was a Roman station, probably an outpost to Deva. Camden discovered here an hypocaust, hewn out of the solid rock, six yards and a quarter long, five yards broad, and somewhat more than half a yard in height. On some of the tiles were inscribed the letters, “Legio xx.” which seem to denote the founders. This is further corroborated by the name of the place, “Caer gawr lleng,” (the camp of the great legion), Cawr lleng being the name by which the Britons distinguished the twentieth legion.

The castle stood on the summit of a high rock. Its present remains are very inconsiderable; they are, however, sufficient to indicate that it never could have been a fortress of any great importance.

Hope, {73} or Queen’s Hope,

Is an inconsiderable village, little more than a mile from Caergwrle; it also has the remains of a castle, at which Eleanor, queen of Edward the First, made some stay on her way to Caernarvon.—Within a short distance are the mansions of Bryn Yorkyn and Plâs Têg. Caergwrle and Hope, in conjunction with Flint, Caerwys, Rhuddlan, Overton, and Holywell, send a member to Parliament.

Angling station:—the river Alun.

CAERNARVON.

Bangor 9 Beaumaris 14 Beddgelert 13 Capel Curig 17 Dolbadarn Castle 10 Ffestiniog 25 Llanberis 8 London by Chester 254 — by Shrewsbury 236 Pwllheli 20 Tan-y-Bwlch 23 Tre-Madoc 20

Caernarvon is the capital of the county, and is one of the largest and best towns in North Wales. It name is properly Caer yn Arvon, which signifies a walled town in the district opposite to Anglesea. Ar Vôn or Ar Môn implies opposite to Mona.

“Caernarvon (we adopt the interesting and elegant description of Mr.
Roscoe,) is built on a peninsula, formed by the Menai on the west and
north sides, and by the Seiont on the south. It was formerly
enclosed by walls, defended by a chain of round towers, which on
three sides are still nearly entire. In former times there were but
two gates through which the inhabitants passed, but other openings
have been more recently made to form communications with the suburbs,
which are rapidly extending. The town-hall is over one of the
ancient gates of the town.

A terrace, extending from the quay to the north end of the walls,
offers a delightful promenade, and presents a variety of interesting
objects around the port, which is daily rising into greater
importance by receiving and dispensing the fruits of industry and
commerce. This terrace, Mr. Bransby observes, possesses the powerful
recommendation of being always clean, and of soon becoming dry after
heavy and continued rain. From this walk to behold the sun on a calm
summer evening, as he goes down ‘in a paradise of clouds’ behind the
Anglesea hills, is to witness one of the most lovely and glorious
spectacles in nature. On an eminence called the Twt-hill, near the
Uxbridge Arms Hotel, is a most extensive and varied panoramic view,
including part of the Snowdonian range,—the isle of Anglesea, with
its plains, farms, and villas, backed by the mountains of Holyhead
and Parys,—the swelling Menai,—and the blue and spacious bay, with
the sea stretching far beyond.

The harbour and the pier have both undergone very great improvement,
and ships of considerable burthen can now come up alongside the quay.
An extensive trade is carried on with Liverpool, Dublin, Bristol,
Swansea, &c., besides a lucrative coast trade, exchanging the
invaluable mineral substances of this part of the Principality for
timber and other articles. Slates are brought here as to the general
depôt from the quarries about Llanberis and Llanllyfni; and the
country people of all ranks resort hither, as the best and cheapest
market, from a considerable distance.

The market-house, erected by the corporation, the Uxbridge Arms
Hotel, by the Marquis of Anglesea, a number of excellent inns, among
which stand foremost the Goat Hotel and the Sportsman, with hot and
cold baths, and a billiard-room, render the modern town as pleasant
and commodious a place of residence as the most fastidious nabob,—to
say nothing of hardy Welshmen and pedestrian ramblers,—could possibly
desire.

Caernarvon is resorted to as a bathing place, and by invalids seeking
health and amusement, for a temporary residence. There are here the
advantages of a genteel neighbourhood as well as salubrious air; and
the rambler in quest of romantic scenery frequently makes this town
his head quarters. Besides many pleasant walks and rides in the
immediate vicinity, within the circle of a dozen miles are the Menai
Straits as far as Bangor, Llanberis, Snowdon, Plâs Newydd, and
Beddgelert, offering not only inducements to those in search of the
picturesque, but affording a source of continued gratification to the
botanist, mineralogist, and antiquary.

The parish church of Caernarvon is at Llanbeblig, and stands in its
loneliness at the distance of half a mile to the south-east of the
castle wall. It is a structure of great antiquity, and contains the
altar-tomb of Sir William Gruffydd (a member of the Penrhyn family)
and Margaret, his wife. The knight mailed in armour, and the lady in
the full dress of the age, are sculptured in white marble, and lie
side by side. English service is performed at a chapel of ease at
Caernarvon, close to the castle; but in this venerable little place
the service is conducted in Welsh. The churchyard exhibits the
peculiarities which give a touching interest to some of the burying
places of the Principality. Flowers of all colours, but especially
snowdrops, violets, and pale primroses, display their beauty and
expend their perfume on the graves of children, and maidens ‘that die
unmarried,’ while branches of the box, arbutus, and laurel, with
shrubs of a firm and sombre hue, mark the resting places of the more
matured in this ‘City of the Silent.’

For its ample and magnificent feudal structure,—almost terrible to
the eye,—Caernarvon is indebted to the first Edward, who raised this
colossal castle—as if in derision of the poor tenure of all sovereign
power—near the ruins of the great Roman station. Soon after his
conquest, Edward began the stupendous pile, which served less to
overawe the Welsh than for a magnificent ruin and a modern wonder.
The remains of Segontium furnished part of the materials, bright grey
limestone, of exceeding durability, was brought from Twr Celyn, in
Anglesea, and grit-stone, for the windows and arches, from Vaenol,
between Caernarvon and Bangor.

Vast, irregular, and more shattered than its exterior grandeur would
lead us to suppose, this giant-fortress stretches far along the west
of the town, its broad spreading walls being surmounted, at
intervals, with octagonal towers. The extent of the courts, the
gateways, and the towers, bear equal witness to those noble
proportions which astonish the modern architect, as from its
Eagle-turrets he commands the whole of its magnificent area, and the
wide sweeping circuit of its walls.

Opposite the massive Eagle tower, in which the unfortunate Edward the
Second was born, is the Queen’s Gate, {76} which had two portcullises
that communicated with a drawbridge across the moat. Over the
embattled parapet are seen the turrets rising majestically above the
solitary ruins, bounded on two sides by the water; the third bears
traces of a large ditch; on the north-east side is a deep well,
nearly filled up, with a round tower contiguous to it, apparently the
ancient dungeon. The exterior, and especially the main entrance, has
an air of forlorn grandeur, blended with massy strength, which must
at all times excite admiration and awe in the beholder. The area
within is irregularly oblong, and was divided into an outer and inner
court. The external walls of the castle, enclosing an area of great
extent, are nearly as perfect as when they were built, and of
considerable height and thickness.

The state apartments appear to have been spacious, commodious, and
handsomely ornamented; the windows wide, and enriched with elegant
tracery. The form is polygonal, though the exterior of the edifice
presents a complete square. The floors and staircases are
considerably injured—in many places wholly demolished. A gallery
extended round the entire fortress, to serve as a means of
communication in times of danger, and during a siege. It lay close
to the outer walls, and was provided with narrow slips, adapted for
stations, from which to annoy an enemy with arrows or other missiles
as occasion might require. But its time-worn and ivy-covered
bulwarks are now fast yielding, like the interior, to the assaults of
time. Some years ago the Eagle tower, struck by lightning, was split
down several yards from the summit, giving it still more the aspect
of a splendid ruin.

It was evening, as I before said, when I first caught sight of the
castle. The sun’s disk had sunk below the horizon, but his refracted
rays still played upon that imaginary line ‘which parts the day and
night,’ casting an attenuated melancholy grace over the crumbling
fortress. I lingered amongst those ruins till the last vestige of
light was withdrawn, except such as is bestowed by a clear blue
firmament emblazoned with burning stars. As I gazed, the phantoms of
history passed rapidly before my mental eye, with an order and truth
like unto the facts treasured in her pages, and with a realizing
illusion that converted me into an actual spectator of the scenes.
From the topmost point of the Eagle Tower a prophetic voice seemed to
issue, dispelling the delusion that in those days clung to the hearts
of the stricken Cambrians, that their own-loved Arthur would again
appear to raise up their fast-falling nation to its former glory. I
saw the stern conqueror buckling on his armour, after the Easter
festival, resolute to conquer or exterminate the defenders of that
ancient land. I heard the wailing of that dark and stormy night of
Palm Sunday, when the strong hold of Hawarden fell before his
victorious sword. I tracked the line of march his countless legions
took through the deep forest, reaching, in ancient times, from the
confines of Cheshire to the mountains of Snowdon, leaving Flint and
Rhuddlan still frowning in their perilled rear; and I looked upon the
picture of that onslaught at the bridge of Moel-y-don, when an
English knight was seen buffeting the waves of Menai, and alone
escaped to tell the tale of national vengeance. The panorama
shifted, and another pictured page discovered that gallant prince,
the last of his race who held the sceptre of the Cymri, slowly
retreating before his haughty foe into the mountain holds hard
by,—dispirited, though not despairing,—cursed by the priest whom
Edward brought to curse him,—deluded by the soothsayer, whose
prophecy bore ‘a double sense,’ too fatally fulfilled in his own
person,—deserted by many of his friends, and his affianced wife
basely held a captive in the hands of his enemy. The scene then
moved; the undaunted hero still struggled with his fate, once the
sovereign of the whole land, now only lord of the five baronies of
Snowdon,—goaded by the insults of his mean conqueror,—maddened into
open war,—betrayed by his base confederate lords,—and perishing alone
and defenceless in the solitary recesses of a wood. Such was the
strange eventful story; and that castle which marked the triumph of
the conqueror, and the subjection of the people—which heard the
infant cries of the first English prince of this cheated land—which
opened wide at midnight its gates to troops of warrior-knights
belonging to an alien country—which rung again and again with the
rude revelry of that barbarous age, when the pageant and tournament
of Nefyn was ended,—and which in the days of its strength, passed
into the hands of foes, and friends, and fratricides,—that castle in
its gaunt ruins, yet remained as the monument of these records, and
the tomb in which past ages silently slept.”

A rail-road has lately been formed from Llanllyfni to Caernarvon, a distance of more than nine miles, for the purpose of conveying the copper ore and slates to the quay.

A most interesting part of the Menai Straits is connected with Caernarvon. Tourists may enjoy boating in perfection, either on the Tal-y-Foel ferry, the new ferry at Barris, to which a good road has recently been made, through the lands of the Marquis of Anglesea, by his free permission; or to Aber-mania, at the mouth or gap of the straits, and then to Llanddwyn, where are the remains of an old abbey. On the opposite side the gap to Aber-mania is St. David’s Fort, a marine residence of Lord Newborough, well worth a visit, and where the domestics shew the greatest civility. A few miles to the northward, on the east coast of Caernarvon bay, is Dinas Dinlle, an old Roman station of artificial formation.

Caernarvon is remarkable for having been the first town in the principality that enjoyed the privilege of a royal charter, which was granted by Edward the First. The government of the place was rested in a mayor (who is always constable of the castle), two bailiffs, a recorder, burgesses, &c. before the passing of the municipal reform act; now it is under the provisions of that act. In conjunction with the boroughs of Conway, Criccieth. Nevin, Pwllheli, and Bangor, Caernarvon returns a member to parliament. The member in the present parliament is W. B. Hughes, Esq.

There are two banks, viz. Messrs. Williams & Co. commonly known as the old bank, and which is in connection with the banks of the same firm at Chester and Bangor; and a branch of the North and South Wales bank. Coaches pass several times each day between this place and Bangor, and the mail leaves every morning for Pwllheli through Clynog; and for Barmouth, through Beddgelert, Tremadoc, Tan-y-bwlch, and Harlech.

Caernarvon castle is now undergoing considerable repairs, under the authority of the Commissioners of Woods and Forests.

It is more than probable, that the town of Caernarvon had its origin in the Roman city of Segontium, about half a mile distant, and that it is not, as many have supposed, indebted for its name to Edward the First; for _the fort in Arvon_, or in the hundred opposite to Anglesea, as the name indicates, would apply with equal propriety to the ancient city as to this more modern fortress. The town, however, there is no doubt, was the creation of Edward, and it was most probably formed from the ruins of the old station. The site of the ancient city of Segontium lies about half a mile south of Caernarvon, the ancient Roman station mentioned in the Itinerary of Antonius. This appears to have been the principal station that the Romans had in North Wales, all the rest being only subordinate stations. It received its name from the river Seiont, which rises in the lower lake of Llanberis, passes under the walls, and discharges itself into the Menai near Caernarvon castle. Its form was an oblong; and it appears originally to have occupied about six acres of ground. Not far hence was the fort which belonged to it: this was also of an oblong figure, and stood upon about an acre of ground. The walls are at present about eleven feet high, and six in thickness, and at each corner there has formerly been a tower. A chapel, said to be founded by Helen, daughter of Octavius, Duke of Cornwall, and a well which bears her name, are amongst the ruins still pointed out. The chapel was standing little more than a century ago. The old Roman road from the station of Dinas Dinorwic, in Llanddeiniolen, to Dinas Dinlle, on the shore of Caernarvon bay, lay through Caernarvon. Both stations are worth the attention of the antiquary.

CAERWYS, (_Flintshire_.)

Chester 23 Denbigh 7½ Holywell 6 London 212 Mold 12 St. Asaph 7

Caerwys, formerly a market town, with the parish of the same name, contains about 1000 inhabitants, being situated on the high road leading from Holywell to Denbigh, through the beautiful Vale of Clwyd. Caerwys has the most considerable fairs for cattle, sheep, pigs, and horses, in all the country, though its markets have long since failed. The market-house still remains, but it has been converted, time out of mind, into a dwelling-house. It is close to the cross; to the S. W. the arches are yet plainly to be seen, though filled up; and the remains of an erect south dial are yet distinctly to be seen in the south wall.

A few hundred yards to the west, is a most beautiful dingle, known by the name of Maesmynan Wort, offering a pleasant ramble to the admirer of nature and the botanist. Near the place where the brook, which runs through this dingle by Maesmynan House, empties itself into the Wheeler, was formerly the residence of Llywelyn ab Gruffydd, the last native prince of Wales: a cottage, now called Pandy, shews the place where the prince resided.

Among the towns of the Principality, this was formerly a place of great renown, but its glory has faded away, and nought remains to evince its ancient consequence but its name. This is a compound of the two words, _Caer_, a city, and _gwŷs_, a summons, notifying its having been a place of judicature. The assizes for the county were held in the town of Caerwys till about the middle of the seventeenth century, when they were removed to Flint; the goal is yet remaining, though converted into a dwelling-house, called Yr hên Gaol. This still continues to be one of the contributory boroughs for the return of a member to parliament. Mr. Pennant, upwards of fifty years ago, describes Caerwys as a “town mouldering away with age.” The chief boast of this town was its being the _olympia_ of North Wales, the theatre where the British bards poured forth their extemporaneous effusions,

“In thoughts that breathe, and words that burn;”

and where the honoured minstrels awakened

“Their harps to soul-enchanting melody,
And gave to rapture all their trembling strings.”

Here were held the ancient _Eisteddvodau_, or congresses of bards and minstrels, where judges presided, appointed by special commission from the Princes of Wales previous to the conquest, and from the Kings of England after that event. These arbiters were bound to pronounce justly and impartially on the talents of the respective candidates, and grant degrees according to merit. The bards were formed into a college, the members of which had particular privileges to be enjoyed by none but such as were admitted to their degrees, and licensed by the judges. The last commission granted by royal authority for holding this court of Apollo seems to have been in the 9th of Elizabeth, when Sir Richard Bulkeley, knt. and certain other persons were empowered to make proclamation in the towns of North Wales, that all persons intending to follow the profession of bards, &c. should appear before them at Caerwys on a certain day, in order to give proofs of their talents in the science of music, and to receive licenses to practise the same. The meeting was numerous, and fifty-five persons were admitted to their degrees. From this period, these meetings were discontinued at Caerwys and throughout the Principality: the minstrel ceased to be considered a venerable character in England, and our monarchs looked, probably, with equal contempt on the bards of Wales. Thus neglected and despised, the Eisteddvodau dwindled to nothing, and reposed in oblivion for many years.

Towards the close of the last century, some spirited Welsh gentlemen, who had the honour of their national harmony and literature at heart, determined to revive a meeting likely to preserve and encourage that music and language, the excellence of which has for ages been enthusiastically admired by their countrymen. In the spring of 1798, their resolution was carried into effect; and an Eisteddvod was held at Caerwys, the ancient place of meeting. Since this period, Eisteddvodau have been frequent in different parts of the Principality.

CAPEL CURIG, (_Caernarvonshire_,)

Bangor 14½ Beddgelert 12 Caernarvon 17 Cerniogau Mawr 15 Ffestiniog 20 Llanberis 10 Llanrwst 10 Menai Bridge 17

Capel Curig is most beautifully situated on the London and Holyhead road. From its vicinity to Snowdon and other mountains of note in this part of the Principality, and to several of the first lakes in North Wales, it has been for a long time much frequented by tourists; and since the diversion of the great Holyhead road through Nant Ffrancon, and the erection of a spacious hotel here by the late Lord Penrhyn, has become a place of fashionable resort, and during the summer season is visited by many families of distinction. A new line of road from this place to Caernarvon, through the pass of Llanberis, at the foot of Snowdon, has lately been opened, affording a more direct communication with the interior of the counties of Caernarvon and Merioneth.

In this vale there is a lovely variety both of wood and water. The name is derived from its chapel, dedicated to a Welsh saint called Curig, situate a short distance from the inn. He is mentioned in an old Welsh poem, which, however, only intimates his order, and nothing more is at present known of him.

Capel Curig is situated in a district abounding with mineral wealth. A great quantity of calamine has been obtained here, and in the vicinity is found the broad primitive rock called serpentine. Near a place called Bryn Gwaliau, between Capel Curig and Llanrwst, there are some remains of a Roman edifice, a great part of which has been removed for building materials: one of the apartments was found by Mr. Lysons to be sixty feet by twenty in dimensions, and another eighteen feet six inches square, in which latter were several short square pillars of stone, similar to those of the hypocaust near the Feathers hotel in Chester.

Behind the inn at Capel Curig westward are two lakes connected by a stream, on which a boat is kept, and frequently employed by visitors in aquatic excursions. At the foot of the lake there is an ancient rustic bridge, from which, as well as from the lake, is a fine view of old Snowdon and his proud associates.—At a short distance from the hotel southward, rises the mountain of

Moel Siabod,

Whose height is 2878 feet: it is exceedingly precipitous, especially on that side towards Bettws-y-Coed, and the summit is thickly strewed with loose fragments. From this commanding station is a most magnificent view of the mountains of Snowdonia, of nine different lakes, and “ocean’s dim immensity.” The distance from the inn to the summit is about three miles and a half.—Beneath Moel Siabod, towards the east, and about five miles from Capel Curig, is

Dolwyddelan Castle,