Chapter IV: Part 4

A VERY ancient seat belonging to the Honourable Edward Mostyn Lloyd Mostyn, eldest son of the Right Honourable the Lord Mostyn, of Pengwern. It is situated near the sea-shore, in the parish of Whiteford and county of Flint. How long the Mostyn (formerly written Moston) family have been seated here is uncertain, and the date of the first ancestorial chivalry at this place is involved in equal doubt. To the exertions of the accomplished and ingenious Thomas Pennant, of Downing, the nearest neighbour of Mostyn, the public are indebted for the interesting little history of this curious mansion, which is every year removing farther from its primitive character by repairs or annexations. The principal approach to Mostyn is from the hamlet of Rhewl, through a long vista of venerable forest trees. A sudden right-angled turn, into a shorter avenue, discloses a view of the oldest part of the hall. The grounds around the house undulate gracefully, and are beautifully broken. Noble oaks are scattered every where; magnificent beeches, clothed to the ground, adorn the verdant slopes, that fall gently towards the sea in a north-easterly direction. It is somewhat singular that in such an aspect vegetation should be found so luxuriant; yet here, close to the water’s edge, trees of various sorts possess an appearance of the greatest vigour.

The front,

“If front it might be call’d, that shape has none
Distinguishable,”

consists of the most ancient part of the hall. A lesser building is attached, designed as a symposium for the servants and retainers; and on the outside, again, is annexed, in an irregular manner, the ancient chapel, now desecrated into sleeping apartments. The porch appears to have been rebuilt in 1623, and is ornamented with the arms of four great alliances of the family, rudely cut in stone, and copied from the heraldic designs over the chimney-piece in the great hall. The most ancient part of the house is certainly earlier than Henry the Sixth’s reign, for Bolton Hall, in Yorkshire (the most antique seat we know of), is a mansion on a less scale, but exactly similar to this, and in that house, it is well known, the unfortunate prince concealed himself for a length of time.

The great banqueting hall of the interior is a solemn gloomy apartment, furnished with a dais or elevated stage at the upper end, with its long table for the lord and his jovial company, and another on one side, where the more humble participators of the good cheer were seated. The upper servants took their dinner on the dais, but the inferior at the side-table. The roof is lofty, and crossed by long beams. The _nen bren_, or top beam, was a frequent toast when the master’s health was intended to be given, and “_Jached y nen bren y Ty_” {108} was the cordial phrase. The spacious chimney-piece is adorned with the arms of the family and its alliances, properly emblazoned. The first coat belongs to Jeuan Vychan, of Llys Pengwern, in Llangollen, who espoused Angharad, daughter and sole heiress of Howel ap Tudor, of Mostyn, in the reign of Richard the Second. It appears that Jeuan had farmed the estate of Mostyn, and wisely determined to turn his lease into a perpetuity, by gaining the affections of the heiress.

Connubio junxit stabili, propriamque dicavit.

The arms of the Lady Angharad, who was directly descended from the Lords of Tegengle, occupy the next shield. The third is filled with the arms of Gloddaeth, adopted on the marriage of Howel ap Evan Vychan with the daughter of Gryffydd, of Cryddyn. Gryffydd Lloyd’s arms are emblazoned on a fourth. The walls are decorated in a style suitable to the manners and customs of the age. Guns, swords, pikes, helmets, and breastplates are disposed in the military quarter; spoils of the chase and funeral achievements in their allotted places. Against the wall at the upper end is nailed a falcon, having two bells, a greater and a less, suspended from its feet. On two of the silver rings are inscribed the name of the owner, Mc. Kinloch, of Kulrie, in the county of Angus, in Scotland. With these incumbrances it flew from home on the morning of the 21st of September, 1772, and was killed at Mostyn on the morning of the 26th. As the precise time when it reached Wales is unknown, the exact velocity of its flight cannot be ascertained. Sir Thomas Brown, in his Miscellaneous Tracts, mentions two instances, of a somewhat dubious kind, of a hawk that flew thirty miles an hour in pursuit of a woodcock, and a second that passed from Westphalia into Prussia in one day.

The magnitude and proportions of the kitchen are in every way correspondent to the hospitality that reigns in the hall. A gallery, crossing the side wall, leads to the apartments of the lady of the house, and affords an opportunity of overlooking the culinary arrangements whenever she passes to her dressing-room or chamber.

At one end of the gallery is an apartment in which the Earl of Richmond was concealed, when engaged in planning with his Welsh friends the overthrow of the house of York. While he lodged at Mostyn, a party attached to the usurper arrived there to apprehend him. He was just sitting down to dinner when the alarm was given, and had barely time to leap through a back window, to this day called King Henry’s, and make his escape.

The library contains a valuable collection; the most rare works are those comprehending the Medallic History. Amongst the antiques and curiosities are a torques, found at Harlech, in Merionethshire, and a silver harp, which has been for time immemorial in the possession of this ancient family. This badge of honour is five inches in length, and furnished with strings equal in number to the Muses. The Mostyn family have for ages exercised the privilege of presenting this harp to the most skilful bard at the Eisteddfoddau, formerly held by a royal commission in North Wales. (See Denbigh Castle.)

Richard ap Howel, then Lord of Mostyn, joined Henry in Bosworth field, and after the battle was presented, by the grateful monarch, with the belt and sword he wore that day. To King Henry’s invitation to follow him to court, the Welshman modestly replied, “Sire, I dwell among mine own people.”

The square tower is part of the most ancient hall; it is still in preservation, but its battlements are concealed beneath an unsightly, awkward dome. From a little summer-house in the garden there is a most satisfactory view of the original plan, as well as of the additions subsequently made from the necessities of an increased establishment. In 1631 Sir Roger annexed a handsome addition, containing, besides many chambers, a withdrawing and a dining-room. In the latter apartment are the arms of the Wynnes and D’Arcies emblazoned on glass. Sir Roger married Mary, daughter of the famous Sir John Wynne, of Gwydyr, and the D’Arcie arms came from D’Arcie Savage, of Leighton, in Cheshire.

ST. WINIFRED’S WELL, HOLYWELL.

HOLYWELL, the largest and most prosperous town in Flintshire, occupies the brow and summit of an eminence near the coast of the Chester channel, or estuary of the Dee. It is a respectable, busy place, possessing some commercial importance, and has been made contributory with Flint, and the other ancient boroughs, in returning one member to the imperial parliament. Its manufactures consist in the smelting and forging of ores and metals raised in the mineral districts of the county; and very extensive works are conducted here of copper, lead, brass, and calamine,—to which have lately been annexed factories of cotton and silk. The parish church is situated at the foot of the steep hill on which the principal streets are erected, and so overhung, that the toll of a bell, if suspended in the tower, would be inaudible in the town. This singular and accidental inconvenience is remedied in the following manner:—A person employed for the purpose carries a good heavy bell, suspended by a strap passing across his shoulders, and falling against a cushion that covers over one of his knees. At every advance of the cushioned knee the bell tolls, and in this way the parishioners are noticed, the length of the bell-toller’s tour being equal to the usual time allowed for summoning a congregation in the accustomed manner.

The English name Holywell, and the Welsh “Tre-ffynnon,” are derived from the celebrated well of Winifred, a saint and martyr, who flourished some time in the seventh century. The fabulous biography of this religious person is extremely singular, and entirely identified with the history of the well. Like the hieroglyphics of the Egyptians, or the mythology of ancient Greece and Rome, the story of St. Winifred undoubtedly possesses some more rational interpretation; but it is a labyrinth from which a clue is yet wanting to enable those involved to effect their escape.

The legendary history assures us that Winifred was the daughter of Thewith, a powerful lord of this country in the seventh century, and niece to the pious St. Beuno. Her uncle having obtained permission from her father to build a church here, took Winifred, who is represented as “devout, young, and beautiful,” under his protection, to assist him in his religious exercises. In this district there lived at the same period Cradocus, the son of King Alen, who, becoming enamoured of the charms of this beautiful young lady, determined to obtain her hand in marriage. It was on a Sunday morning that the young prince first declared the ardour of his affection to Winifred, while her father and his retinue were attending church; but the lady, making a modest excuse for her abrupt retirement, escaped from his presence and ran towards the church. Cradocus, enraged at the rejection of his suit, pursued her to the brow of the bill, and there, drawing his sword, severed her head from her body. The head immediately rolled down the hill, and up to the altar in the church around which her father and her relatives were assembled; and from the spot where it rested a clear and rapid fountain instantly gushed up. St. Beuno hastily caught up the bleeding head, and placing it upon the body they forthwith reunited, no trace of separation remaining but a little white line encircling the neck. As for the assassin, he instantly dropped down dead upon the spot; but the legend does not decide whether the earth swallowed him up, or his Satanic majesty bore his impious corpse away. The waters of the spring, notwithstanding the reunion of the head and trunk, continued to issue with unabated rapidity; the sides of the well became clothed with a delicious scented moss, and the pebbles at the bottom were tinctured with a few drops of the martyr’s blood. Winifred survived her decapitation fifteen years, and retiring to the monastery of Gwytherin, in Denbighshire, there accepted the veil from the hands of St. Elerius, and died abbess of that religious house. Ecclesiastic historians acknowledge that she was interred there; and four upright stones, forming a continued right line, on one of which the name Winifred is graven in ancient characters, are still shown in the churchyard at Gwytherin as the grave of this celebrated virgin martyr. According to Dugdale, a sober author, the bones of St. Winifred were exhumed and translated from Gwytherin to the abbey of Shrewsbury in 1136, by Robertus Salopiensis, who was abbot there, and who wrote an account of her life and miracles.

The well, as it now appears, is enclosed in a polygonal basin. It is covered by a temple, built by Margaret, the mother of Henry the Seventh, in that profuse style of ornament which prevailed amongst the ecclesiastic edifices of that age. The roof is of stone, richly carved and groined, the legend of the saint being represented in the different compartments between the ribs. From the angles of the curb-stone, enclosing the water, light clustered columns rise, supporting a beautiful canopy adorned with tracery, suspended exactly over the well. The arms of the Stanleys, and of other noble families allied to them, were inserted in different panels, but all these devices are now indistinct, though the little temple itself is in excellent preservation. An image of the Virgin Mary occupied a niche opposite the side entrance, but this has long since disappeared. The water appears to gush up with all the rapidity the legend would insinuate, and to possess all the transparency there implied. The sweet scented moss is called by botanists jungermania asplenoides, and the drops of blood upon the pebbles below are also a vegetable production, called byssus jolithus. To every visiter who enters, the water certainly presents an appearance of great freshness, as if the fountain had only just gushed forth that moment; and the rapidity of its ebullition must necessarily be extraordinary, one hundred tons of water being ejected every minute. The overflow passes through an arch, beneath the front wall of the temple, into an oblong bath, surrounded by an ambulatory, and protected by an iron balustrade. Here pilgrims were formerly suffered to immerse themselves, in expectation of miraculous results; and, that credulity has some sincere votaries, is testified by the barrows of the impotent and the crutches of the lame, which hang as votive offerings from the temple’s roof. In a second story is a small chapel, now desecrated into a poor school. This part of the building has been decided, by a decree in chancery, to be private property, but the well and its interesting enclosures are free to the public.

The benefits derived by the infirm pilgrims, who formerly visited this holy well, may be problematical; but the commercial advantages conferred upon the town and neighbourhood by their proximity to the fountain are certain and distinct. The quantity of water which issues at the moment of its escape from the enclosure, is found sufficient to set in motion the wheel of a corn mill: immediately after, four cotton factories are erected on its stream, followed in quick succession by a copper smelting house and brass foundry, coppersmithy, wire mill, a calamine calcinary, and other factories: all established on the current of this useful river, whose course does not exceed a mile in length from the fountain to the sea, and whose only supply is the holy well of St. Winifred.

HAWARDEN CASTLE, FLINTSHIRE.

HAWARDEN, commonly pronounced Harden, is a small manufacturing town, seated near the estuary of the river Dee, and on the mail coach road from Chester to Holyhead. Tiles and coarse earthen wares are made here, and manufactories are established of Glauber’s salts, sal ammoniac, and ivory black, besides which it possesses an extensive iron foundery. A rail road extending to the water’s edge enables the manufacturer to export his goods with facility. In the legendary history of this place its inhabitants are styled “Harden Jews,” the origin of which epithet is explained by the following curious tale. In the year 946, Cynan ap Ellis ap Anarawd, being king of Gwynedd or North Wales, there stood a christian temple here, to which a rood-loft was attached, containing an image of the Virgin bearing a large cross in the hands and called the Holy Rood. The summer of this year proving unaccountably hot and dry, the Hardeners prayed to the Holy Rood for rain, and Lady Trawst, the wife of Sytsylt, governor of the castle, was one of the most constant in her supplications to the image. One day, when this devout lady was on her knees before the figure, the large cross fell down, and killed her on the spot. The Hardeners, previously chagrined at the indifference of the Holy Rood to their fervent entreaties, the weather continuing as warm as before, determined to bring the image to trial for the murder of the unfortunate Lady Trawst. This ceremony was solemnly performed, and the criminal being brought in guilty, was, by the majority, sentenced to be _hanged_. Spar of Mancot, one of the jurymen, thought _drowning_ would be the most suitable mode of destruction, as their prayers were offered on a watery subject. Another, Corbin, suggested that it would be sufficient to lay the image down upon the beach and leave the rest to fate. The latter suggestion was embraced, and the Holy Rood being placed upon the sands was carried, by the flow of the tide, gently up to the walls of Chester, as the legend has it, _drowned_ and dead. The citizens of Chester immediately took it up, interred it on the spot, and set up a monument with this inscription:

The Jews their God did crucify,
The Hardeners theirs did drown,
Because their wants she’d not supply,
And lies under this cold stone.

A farther honour was paid to the insulted image by the inhabitants of Chester, whose river, formerly called the Usk, was henceforward denominated Rood Die, or Dee.

[Picture: Hawarden Castle; Aberglasslynn; St. Asaph. London. Published
by T. T. & J. Tegg, Cheapside, Oct. 1st 1832]

Harden Castle was occupied by Fitzvarlin, a Norman adventurer, soon after the conquest; it was next the seat of the Barons Mont-Alt, stewards of the palatinate of Chester; and, upon the extinction of that title in 1237, was resumed by the crown. In the year 1267 it was restored to the Mont-Alt family by Llewellyn, Prince of Wales, with an injunction restraining them from erecting a fortress here for the space of thirty years. David, the brother of Llewellyn, violating that allegiance which he had so often sworn, surprised and took the castle, upon Palm Sunday, in the year 1281, and cruelly butchered the brave little garrison. From the death of David the Mont-Alt family retained the possession for upwards of fifty years, when Robert, the last baron, conveyed it to Isabella, the queen of Edward the Second, and upon her disgrace it again became crown property.

In 1336 it was granted, by Edward the Third to Montacute, Earl of Salisbury, in which noble house it continued till 1400, when John, making an insurrectionary movement in favour of his deposed master Richard the Second, was beheaded by the townspeople of Leicester. The crown once more resumed possession of this fortress upon John of Salisbury’s attainder.

Thomas, Duke of Clarence, who fell at the battle of Baugy in 1420, had a grant of Harden Castle, and was succeeded in the tenure by Sir Thomas Stanley, who held it until the year 1420, when it was again resumed by the crown, and granted to Edward, Prince of Wales.

About this time also an inquisition was held, when it was found that John, Earl of Salisbury, having alienated this estate previous to his attainder, his surviving feoffee was legally entitled to enter, and repossess the same. A few years after the Stanley family appear to have been the proprietors, and it was also at one time the property of Margaret, mother of Henry the Seventh. Upon the execution of the Earl of Derby in 1601, this, together with his other possessions were sequestrated, and sold by the agents of the sequestration to Mr. Serjeant Glynn, in whose family it still continues. The ruins of the castle are inconsiderable, it was dismantled in the general destruction of fortresses by the Parliamentarians, and was further dilapidated by one of its proprietors. The present owner allows it the enjoyment of that respect which is generally felt towards a venerable ruin, and is himself a constant resident in a stately family mansion erected at a little distance from the remnants of the ancient castle. The family of Maude take the title of viscounts from this parish.

ABERGLASLYN, CAERNARVONSHIRE.

THE pass of Aberglaslyn {119} is one of the most romantic mountain scenes in Wales. It is a subject of inexpressible grandeur, and quite unique in character. Those who have crossed the mountains of St. Gothard may form an idea of its sublime character by calling to mind the passage of the _Pont du Diable_. The mountains embracing the little valley of Beddgelert, approaching still nearer to each other at the south of the vale, contract the space below so much, as to afford room for nothing more than the river and a narrow road, while the rocks on each side rise with such perpendicularity, that the interval between their summits scarce exceeds the distance of their bases. Here the traveller finds himself immured within a chasm of rifted rocks for a length of about a mile, the waters of the Glaslyn tumbling and foaming over ledges of broken rock, and forming a succession of cascades which make a final plunge beneath the Devil’s Bridge, and swell the waters of the great dark pool beyond it. This is just a landscape suited to the pencil of Salvator, it is incomplete without a group of banditti, and the imagination of the spectator can scarce avoid conjuring up, in the mind’s eye, a band of robbers lurking under shelter of some projecting rock, or concealed in one of the dark caverns that yawn over the roadway. It is a scene adapted to the perpetration of some great or desperate deed, just such a pass as our Wellington would choose to display his Spartan bravery. Here the few could obstruct the many; here, in the language of the Wellington, of ancient Rome, “Mons altissimus impendebat, ut facilè perpauci transitum prohibere possent.” Pont Aberglaslyn has been confounded with another Devil’s Bridge in Cardiganshire. This connects the counties of Caernarvon and Merioneth, and is thrown from rock to rock, over a narrow passage of the river, and from its battlements enjoys a majestic view of the dark and broken cliffs that tower over the pass, as well as of the waters falling in numerous cataracts, the nearest to the bridge being of such a height as to cause a temporary obstruction to the passage of the salmon. There was anciently a royal wear, in the reign of Henry the Fourth, erected here by Robert ap Meredydd. Near the Bridge is shown a stone, called “the chair of Rhys gôch o Eryri,” a celebrated bard, in which he is believed to have sat while composing some of his national poems.

ST. ASAPH.

The city of St. Asaph stands on the declivity of a hill on the western bank of the river Elwy, whence its ancient name “Llan Elwy,” and one mile above the confluence of that river with the Clwyd. It consists of one cheerful looking avenue climbing the brow of the hill, and is perhaps the smallest city in Great Britain. The landscape of which it forms a part, though not exactly suited to the pencil, is gratifying and beautiful. Embowered in woods of luxuriant growth, adorning a pastoral scene of exquisite beauty, the city peeps forth beneath the massive tower of its sacred temple. At the foot of the little eminence the Elwy rolls its crystal waters over a broad and pebbly bed, and passing beneath a bridge of five elliptic arches, hastens to its union with the Clwyd and the sea. The background is composed of lofty, undulating hills, broken by wooded glens, and forming a beautiful termination to this happy, healthy, arcadian prospect.

Centigern, Bishop of Glasgow and Primate of Scotland, being driven from his home by persecution, fled into Wales, and obtained the protection of Prince Cadwallon, who assigned Llan Elwy to him as a place of residence. Here he built a monastery, and established an episcopal seat, which he was the first to occupy, about the year 560. Soon after, being recalled to Scotland, he appointed Asaph, or Asa, to succeed him, from whom the church and city have derived their present names. Asaph was eminent for his piety and learning, nine hundred monks were at one period congregated in his college here, and his reputation for sanctity led to the invention of those fabulous tales of miracles and cures, said to have been performed by him.

Until within very few years a black stone was shown in the pavement of the street, bearing the impression of a horse’s shoe. The indenture was gravely said to have been caused by the hoof of St. Asaph’s horse when he leaped, with his pious master on his back, from Onen-Assa {122} to this spot, the moderate distance of two miles. In the year 1247 the Bishop of St. Asaph was driven from his see, and supported by benevolent contributions. The cathedral was consumed by fire after this period, and, being rebuilt, was again destroyed in 1404, by Owain Glandwr. For seventy years it continued a heap of ruins until restored by the zeal and activity of Bishop Redman. During the protectorate the puritans dispossessed the bishop, and the post-office was kept in the episcopal palace, while the baptismal font in the cathedral was desecrated into a watering trough, and calves were fed in the pulpit by the _sacrilegious_ postmaster. The cathedral consists of a choir, two lateral aisles, and a transept. The great eastern window possesses much architectural beauty, and the design of it was borrowed from the great window of Tintern Abbey. It is now adorned with stained glass, executed by Eggington, the expense of which was defrayed by Bishop Bagot and several gentlemen of the principality, whose arms are emblazoned thereon. The same amiable prelate re-edified the palace, and rendered it suitable to the opulence of this antient see. In the cemetery, adjacent to the west door, is a marble monument to the memory of Bishop Isaac Barrow, who died in 1680. Few prelates have been more eminent for piety or conspicuous by good works. When bishop of the Isle of Man he bought up all the impropriations, and bestowed them on the church. He expended large sums in educating the youth of that island, and founded three scholarships for them in the university of Dublin. When translated to St. Asaph’s he repaired the cathedral and the mill, founded almshouses for eight poor widows, and performed many other works of benevolence and liberality. Perhaps it was neither his least public service or least fortunate exertion, to have been the instructor of Dr. Isaac Barrow, a man who had he lived in any other age but that of Newton, his own pupil, would have been honoured as the most solid mathematician, sound divine, and profound general scholar, that had ever adorned the literature of his country, and now decidedly occupies the next pedestal to his immortal scholar, in all the great galleries of intellectual men throughout the civilized world. Dr. William Beveridge, a learned and amiable prelate, was consecrated to this see in the year 1704.

[Picture: South Stack Lighthouse (Holyhead); Corwen; Barmouth. London.
Published by T. T. & J. Tegg, Cheapside, Oct. 1st 1832]

SOUTH STACK LIGHTHOUSE.

HOLYHEAD has been rendered a tolerably safe asylum for shipping at a vast expenditure of money and great exertion of scientific men. It possesses few natural advantages for a packet station or floating dock, the convenience of its position with regard to Dublin excepted; and for this pure reason it must continue an important position, until some other on the Welsh coast, possessing superior claims, be discovered and adopted by the legislature. Amongst the auxiliaries which art has contributed to give interest to Holyhead, the most picturesque and not the least important is the lighthouse, erected upon the South Stack. This singular Pharos stands upon a rocky island, the surface of which is elevated one hundred and twenty feet above the sea. It is separated from the mainland by a deep chasm, across which a chain suspension foot-bridge is thrown, from the mural cliff on the land side to the island. The descent from the top of the cliff to the bridge is effected by many flights of steps, cut in the front of the rock. The transit of the bridge is rather a nervous ceremony, and the fine craggs of serpentine rock, which overhang the gulf, are unequalled in the mineral kingdom, for variety of pattern and brilliancy of colouring. Beneath the island is a dark cave, excavated by the waves which dash into the narrow chasm with the utmost violence, and used in the milder seasons as a boat-house. On the highest point of the islet stands the lighthouse, a lofty hollow shaft surmounted by a lantern placed at a height of about two hundred feet above the sea, and exhibiting a bright revolving light, which bears upon the Skerries light south-west, half west nearly, eight miles. The light is produced by Argand lamps placed in the foci of metallic reflectors ground to the parabolic form. The sea cliffs of Holyhead mountain, presented to the South Stack Island, are beautifully bold, precipitous, and finely tinted with a variety of colours. Here innumerable sea birds, trusting to the dizzy and dangerous position of their dwellings for protection against human invasion, build their nests. But the ingenuity of man is only to be equalled by his courage, an assertion very fully substantiated by the trade of nest hunting pursued along these dangerous cliffs.

Two hardy and adventurous persons set out together on this perilous occupation. One remains on the top to provide for the secure tenure of a strong stake driven deep into the ground at a little distance from the edge of the precipice; the other, fastening round his waist a rope, which has previously been wound round the stake, with the remainder of the coil upon his arm, literally throws himself over the edge of the cliff, setting his feet against its front, to preserve and regulate a free descent, and lowers himself until he arrives at the habitations of the objects of his pursuit. In this manner be spoliates all the nests within his range, carrying the eggs in a basket suspended from his shoulders. The havoc being completed, he raises himself, by the same system of machinery, to the verge of the precipice, when his partner, laying himself flat upon the ground, assists him to double over the edge of the cliff, the most perilous part of this desperate undertaking, and one which could not be effected, without aid. The species of birds that build their aeries in these steep rocks are various,—wild pigeons, gulls, razor-bills, guillemots, cormorants, and herons. The pregrine falcon was formerly found lurking here, and the estimation in which its eggs were held, encouraged the prosecution of this adventurous trade.

MERIONETHSHIRE,

A MARITIME county of North Wales, extending thirty-five miles in length by thirty-four in breadth, and spreading over an area of four hundred and thirty thousand acres. This was the Roman Mervinia, and derives its name from Merion, a British prince and distinguished general, who expelled the Irish from this district, some time in the fifth century. A Roman occupancy of Merioneth, and one of some duration, is abundantly evident from the encampments and roads still remaining, as well as from the coins and medals frequently dug up here. The surface of the country is a continuation of the mountain chain which rises on the coast of Caernarvonshire, and traversing the principality dips into the Bristol Channel. The loftiest of the Merioneth hills “Cader Idris,” or the Chair of Idris, is elevated two thousand nine hundred and fourteen feet above the sea, a height inferior to that of Snowdon; but its position as a natural observatory, a purpose to which tradition states it was applied by Idris the astronomer, is infinitely superior to that of the monarch of the Caernarvon hills. The beauty of the scenery of mountain, valley, lake, and river, is not exceeded by those of similar and rival character in the adjoining counties, and its seclusion and primitiveness are less interrupted and more complete. In cataracts and delicious passages of river scenery it is superior to any other shire in Wales. To the want of roads may be traced the retirement in which the inhabitants live, to many possibly this may be a subject of envy rather than regret. The population are engaged chiefly in agriculture, that is in the rearing of sheep, black cattle, and the care of wool; the slate quarries also contributing a large revenue towards their more easy and comfortable subsistence. Bark and oak timber, next to the trade in slates, constitute their most important articles of commerce.

CORWEN.

THIS picturesque village is situated upon the great road from Shrewsbury to Holyhead, and about a quarter of a mile from the banks of the river Dee, in the county of Merioneth. It is seated art the base of a bold rock, a projection of the Berwyn mountains, against which the white tower of its church is well relieved, and forms an imposing feature in the beautiful landscape which the valley of the Dee presents at this place. It is an inland town, possessing the advantages of a market and good inn, but without any trade or manufacture; it has grown up into its present neat and cheerful aspect since the construction of the noble road which passes through it, and the traveller has here the gratification of observing, that whatever portion of his viaticum is expended at Corwen, is carefully husbanded and judiciously employed by its inhabitants. The church, a conspicuous feature in the distant view, is on a large scale in proportion to the extent of the town. In the cemetery surrounding it is the shaft of an ancient cross of excellent workmanship; and at the farther side stands a range of buildings two stories in height, called the College of Corwen. The following inscription, graven on a tablet placed over the entrance, explains its benevolent object:

“Corwen College for Six Widows of Clergymen of the Church of England,
who died possessed of cure of souls, in the county of Merioneth, A.D.
M.D.CCL. By the legacy of William Eyton, Esq. of Plas Warren.”

Corwen is the country of Owen Glandwr. The head inn is adorned by his gigantic portrait: in the church wall is shown the private doorway, through which he entered his pew whenever he attended worship, and in the rock impending over the church yard is a recess, called “his chair.” From this rude seat Glandwr is said to have thrown a dagger with such strength that it left an impression of its form in a hard stone below, full half an inch in depth, which stone now forms the lintel of the doorway leading to his pew within the church.

On the sloping brow of a lofty hill, having a western aspect, is a circular enclosure, formed by loose stones but arranged in a systematic way, and measuring rather more than half a mile in circumference. Some scattered heaps within it are supposed to have been habitations, but nothing now appears to justify the notion. This curious circus is called Caer Drewyn, and Owen Gwynedd is said to have been encamped within it while the army of Henry the Second lay on the opposite side of the vale. A situation so commanding could not have escaped the notice of the prudent Glandwr, who frequently took shelter within this rude fortress, from which he had a free and uninterrupted view of his native vale of Glan-Dwrdwy. About one mile from Corwen is Rûg, the beautiful seat of Colonel Vaughan.

BARMOUTH.

A SEAPORT town in the county of Merioneth, is situated at the embouchure of the river Maw or Mawddach, which is obstructed at its entrance by a bar, and hence the origin of the Welsh name Abermaw, and the English Barmouth. The old town almost hangs over the sands, being built in parallel rows along the front of a steep rock, and upon so inconvenient a plan that the windows of all the houses, except those in the lowest street, are annoyed by the smoke ascending from the chimneys of those below. This formal arrangement has occasioned its comparison by tourists to the rock of Gibraltar, and seen from the sea it certainly does present a warlike front. The new town stands upon the sands at the base of the rock, and though free from the smoky imputation which blackens the character of its elder brother, is scarcely safe from the attacks of Neptune, who is only kept at a respectful distance by the intervention of a few mounts of sand shifting with every storm. The beach is level, hard, and smooth; a great convenience to those whose health requires the stimulus of cold immersion, and an agreeable ride for the fashionable visiters who come hither in the summer season for sociability and recreation. The panorama around the estuary is inconceivably grand; the river, expanding into a bay, is embraced by mountains assuming all forms as they aspire above each other, shooting into denuded cliffs that hang over the water, or clothed with forests retiring into deep glens, whither fancy alone can pursue them.

Barmouth has become now a very popular place, arising from various causes, its established character for courtesy and hospitality to strangers, the beauty of the surrounding scenery, and the excellence of the avenues communicating with the most fascinating landscapes in the principality. All the various modes of amusement and recreation provided at fashionable watering places are supplied here. The morning may be passed in riding over the sands, or exploring the wonders of the mountains and the beauty of the vales. Dancing, cards, billiards, and social meetings, occupy the evenings, at which the lyre of old Cambria is often heard pouring forth its plaintive melody. There are no public buildings of any architectural claims here. Baths, lodging-houses, spacious inns, and assembly rooms, are well adapted to their various ends, but present nothing interesting in the exterior. The new church, erected close to the water’s edge, is a very agreeable object, happily designed and creditably executed.

The Friar’s Island stands precisely in the mouth of the river, and ferries are established at the channels on each side; these once passed, a ride of one mile over the firm sands reaches the road to Towyn, which is carried along the front of a bold headland hanging over the sea, less beautiful, but equally bold as the old road round the brow of Penmaen Mawr.

[Picture: Tre Madoc; Harlech Castle; Castel Goch or Welch Pool. London.
Published by T. T. & J. Tegg, Cheapside, Oct. 1st 1832]

There was a military station on the summit of Dinas Gortin, and close to the town stood a tower, in which the Earl of Richmond used to conceal himself, upon his visits to his confederates in this part of Wales. Its strength is celebrated in a poem, written at that period, in which it is also compared with Reinault’s tower near Mold.

TRE-MADOC.

A VILLAGE on the western side of the estuary called the Traeth Mawr, in the promontory of Llyn and county of Caernarvon. It stands on a surface three feet lower than the level of the sea, from the invasion of which it is protected by a substantial embankment. A handsome church ornamented with a tower and spire, and approached through an arched way of exquisite workmanship; a spacious market-house, with assembly rooms in the upper story; a large inn and several good houses, all placed in well chosen and regular positions, indicate the taste of the founder, and excite a feeling of regret that his well directed exertions in excluding the sea were not ultimately better rewarded. The place derives its name from the late W. A. Madocks, Esq., a man of the most courtly, popular manners, and possessed of a penetrating and clear discernment. His first design of enclosing the ground on which the town is built proving successful, led him on to the greater but less happy attempt, that of embanking some thousand acres of the Traeth Mawr, by a sea wall from Caernarvon to Merionethshire. To secure, and place the validity of his title beyond future question, he obtained a grant from the crown in 1807 of all the sands from Pont Aberglaslyn to the point of Gêst. Across the sea-end of this space, and where the breadth was about one mile, he carried an embankment, in deep water, having a breadth of one hundred feet at the base and of thirty at the top. The material of which it is formed is rubble stone, formerly imbedded in loose earth, which was readily detached by the water and entirely carried away, leaving innumerable apertures for the ebb and flow of the tide. This unfortunate error might have been corrected by puddling or some other means; but the breadth of the embankment is still too trifling for the depth and force of the sea. The tide pours in rapidly through every part of this expensive work, presenting a calamitous picture of the projector’s losses, while the dam that secures the town will probably see generations rise and fall on one side, like the fluctuation of the waters from which it protects them on the other.

The idea of rescuing the Traeth Mawr from the sea is as old as the days of Sir John Wynne, of Gwydyr, A.D. 1625. This busy, pompous, but clever man, perceived the practicability of reclaiming both traeths, and solicited the assistance of his ingenious countryman, Sir Hugh Myddleton, but this eminent person declined the invitation, being then engaged in the vast scheme of leading the New River to London. What events are concealed in the arcana of fate! Sir Hugh died nearly broken-hearted, at the apparent failure of a scheme which subsequently proved eminently successful. Mr. Madocks’ life was embittered by the termination of a speculation which was at first apparently successful, then suddenly fell to hopelessness.

HARLECH CASTLE.

HARLECH, now a poor village, deriving its only tenure in the memory of travellers from a noble castle, was formerly the capital of the county, and erected into a free borough by King Edward the First. But the great sessions have been removed to Dolgelly and Bala, and the privilege of sending a burgess to parliament was forfeited by neglect. The corporation consisted of a mayor, recorder, bailiffs, and burgesses, and their register is now in possession of a blacksmith in the village. The charter was stolen by the captain of a merchant vessel, who desired to see the authority upon which he was required to pay toll at Gêst Point; when the ancient deed was put into his hand, he dishonestly and villanously refused to return it, and put out to sea. Ormsby Gore, of Porkington, Esq. the representative of the house of Cleneny, has restored the little county hall, in which the member for Merionethshire continues to be elected, and at other times it is appropriated to the charitable purpose of a poor school. A few years back even tourists were content with the history of Harlech, particularly if it happened to be accompanied by an illustration of the fine castle. The singular ruggedness of the way, and the wretchedness of the lodgings, threw a damp on the ardour of even the most inquisitive. These objections are happily no longer applicable, a new road is formed between Maes y Neuadd and Glyn, and Sir Robert Vaughan has erected a spacious and handsome inn at Harlech, where admirable accommodations are afforded upon singularly moderate terms.

The great attraction of Harlech is the magnificent castle,—formerly remarkable for its strength, now only celebrated for its beauty,—once the terror, but now the pride of the scene. It stands on the summit of a bold perpendicular rock, projecting from a range of hills which stretches along the coast, and frowning over an extensive marsh, which is scarcely higher than the level of the sea that skirts it. On the side next the sea it must originally have been utterly inaccessible, the castle walls being scarce distinguishable from the rock on which they rest, but rather resembling a continued surface of dark gray masonry. The other sides were protected by a fosse of great breadth and depth, cut in the solid rock. The only entrance was beneath a barbacan, within which a drawbridge fell across the fosse, and opened within a ballium which enveloped the citadel. The plan resembles a square, each angle of which is strengthened by a large circular tower, the entrance being also protected by two noble flankers. On the entrance side of the inner court are the chief apartments; and a beautiful elevation, of three stories in height, with cut stone architraves to each window, the whole terminated by graceful circular pavilions, rising far above the ballium, and commanding one of the grandest imaginable prospects, is still entire. It resembles in style and position the council hall in the castle of Beaumaris. The banqueting hall is on the opposite side, and its windows look, from a dizzy height, down upon the green waters of the sea. On the right of the court may be traced the ruins of a small chapel, the pointed window of which is still entire.

No more the banners o’er the ramparts wave,
Or lead their chieftains onward to the fight,
Where die the vanquish’d, or exult the brave,
For victory, basking in its worship’d light.
The Cambrian chiefs of Rheinog Fawr
Are mingled in the dust with common clay.

No view, in the northern shires, is superior in grandeur to the prospect from the light turrets of Harlech Castle. The Marsh and Traeth are seen spread out at a frightful depth, and from the margin of their wide level stupendous rocks and cliffs suddenly start up, tufted and embossed with wood. A great mass of air seems to float in the void behind this scene, separating a world of mountains, the grandeur of whose features the pencil only can express. A stupendous vista of broken bills forms a noble perspective, crossed by ranges that open to farther glimpses—summit succeeds to summit in endless train, leading the fancy into regions of solitary obscurity.

Bronwen, the fair necked, sister to Bren ap Lyr, Duke of Cornwall, and afterwards King of England, had a castle on this rock called “Twr y Bronwen.” She flourished in the third century, and was married to Matholwch, an Irish chieftain. The highest turret of the present fortress is still called, by the Welsh, after the name of the fair-bosomed princess, who once kept her court at Harlech. Colwyn ap Tango, Lord of Effionydd and Ardudwy, repaired and fortified the castle of Bronwen, and changed its name to Caer Collwyn. Upon the ruins of the British castle King Edward the First raised the beautiful and impregnable fortress of Harlech (the fair rock), and the union of the old and new masonry is still distinguishable in the walls. Owen Glandwr seized this fortress in the year 1404, but resigned it shortly after upon the approach of Henry’s army. Here the wretched Margaret of Anjou took refuge after the defeat of her friends at Northampton, but being pursued and discovered, she fled from Harlech also, leaving her jewels and baggage behind, which were afterwards seized by the Lord Stanley. Dafydd ap Ivan ap Einion, an adherent of the house of Lancaster held out, in Harlech Castle, for nine years after the accession of Edward the Fourth to the throne of England. His determined obstinacy, a quality for which his countrymen have always been remarkable in war, compelled the king to send a powerful army to dislodge him, under the leadership of William, Earl of Pembroke. After a march, both tedious and difficult, across an Alpine country, Pembroke sat down before the castle walls, and summoned the brave Welshman to surrender, but only received from him this singular answer: “Some years ago I held a castle in France against its besiegers so long, that all the old women in Wales talked of me; tell your commander that I intend to defend this Welsh castle now, until all the old women in France shall hear of it.” Sir Richard Herbert, who had the immediate conduct of the siege, finding the impregnable nature of the castle, and stubborn quality of its governor, accepted the surrender upon conditions honourable to Dafydd, guaranteeing to him and to his followers, fifty in number, their lives and estates. Being all persons of consideration, they were at first committed to the Tower, the king designing to put them all to death, notwithstanding the conditions of the surrender. Against Edward’s cruel and dishonourable conduct Sir Richard remonstrated, urging, that the Welsh hero might have held the castle longer for any thing the king’s army could have done to expel him; but the king still continuing in his base resolve, “then, sire,” said Sir Richard, “you may take my life, if you please, instead of that of the Welsh captain; for, if you do not, I shall most assuredly replace him in his castle, and your highness may send whom you please to take him out.” The king was too sensible of Sir Richard’s utility to persevere in his iniquitous determination, so yielded to expediency, and pardoned the captives; but he never became sensible of the value of honour, and dismissed his own brave general without farther reward.

In the civil wars of Charles the First’s time this was the last fortress in Wales held for the king. William Owen, the governor, with about twenty followers, surrendered to General Mytton on the 9th of March, 1647.

MONTGOMERYSHIRE.

THIS is an extensive, fertile, and manufacturing county. It partakes both of Welsh and English in its soil and inhabitants; presenting the most sublime and sequestered scenes, as well as the most primitive and distinct race of people, in the recesses of the mountains; while rich pastoral landscapes, adorned with waving woods, shelter the assembled dwellings of a manufacturing population that occupy the campaign country. The great Plinlimmon, fruitful in springs, the parent of the Severn, the Wye, and the Rheidol, hangs over the southern boundary, and aspires to the height of two thousand four hundred and sixty-three feet. The Berwyn hills rise between this county and Merioneth, and the central district is varied and adorned with the pleasing forms of the Breddyn hills. Montgomeryshire extends about thirty miles in length, by the same in breadth, and occupies a surface of four hundred and ninety-one thousand acres. The counties of Denbigh and Merioneth form a northern boundary; Shropshire joins it on the east; Radnor and Cardiganshires bound it on the south; and it touches both Cardigan and Merionethshires on the west. In this county the manufacture of Welsh flannel is established on a permanent basis and extensive scale. Valuable minerals abound in the interior regions; and traffic in these, as well as in agricultural produce, is greatly promoted by a line of inland navigation, which carried through the country.

Montgomery, the capital and assizes town, is by no means the largest or most prosperous. It is a place of no trade, possess no advantages from position, and is totally eclipsed by Newtown, the Leeds of Wales, and by Welsh Pool, a large, flourishing, and handsome town.

CASTELL GÔCH (WELSH POOL).

THE town of Welsh Pool, the ancient Trellwng, is situated in a rich, open country, near to a small black pool, from whence it is supposed to derive its name. This “Llyn-dû” is included within the spacious demesne of Lord Powys, and is of such a contemptible area, that it seems a dissatisfactory origin of the name of the adjacent town. There is an old prophecy that it will at some period overflow and inundate the settlement; but for this no reason is assigned, and its distance, as well as the great elevation of some of the streets above its surface, render the prediction stupid and uninteresting. The town consists of a spacious avenue, commencing at the bridge which spans the canal, and ascending to the crown of a gentle eminence nearly one mile removed. The county court, market house, and flannel hall stand in the main street, and the church, a handsome gothic structure, is in one of the bystreets, at the foot of a steep bank, which nearly obscures the light on that side, and forms a most inconvenient place of burial. There is a chalice of pure gold, preserved in the plate chest of this parish, capable of holding one quart, and valued at one hundred and seventy pounds. It was presented to the church by Thomas Davies, governor of our African colonies, in grateful thankfulness to the Almighty for his safe return from that early grave of Europeans. The inscription sets forth the name and object of the donor, adding, that the gold was brought from Guinea. The houses are mostly built of brick, and the streets present a neat and respectable appearance. The long established trade in flannels has given this place the means of making an opulent display, which does not frequently fall to the lot of the inland towns of Wales. This was an ancient borough, contributory with Montgomery in choosing a representative, but was deprived of its franchise in the year 1728. The government is committed to two bailiffs, a recorder, and town clerk. The first are magistrates, whose jurisdiction extends over parts of several adjacent parishes.