Chapter IV: Part 4

Denbigh, situated nearly in the centre of the vale of Clwyd, is a well-built town, standing on the declivity of a hill. A large manufactory of shoes and gloves is here carried on, and annually supplies London with a vast quantity. The ruins of the castle, still remaining on a rock, commanding the town, are too celebrated in history, and too cruelly shattered by the ravages of war, to be passed unnoticed. The principal entrance forms a fine Gothic arch, with the statue of King Edward the First its founder, above it, in an elegant nich, curiously carved, encircled with a square stone frame. No part of this castle is perfect; but the huge thick fragments, which are scattered in the most extraordinary and fantastical manner, seem to tell its former magnificence; and a present view of things, such as they are, with a retrospect of what they originally were, spreads a gloom over the mind, and interrupts the pleasure of contemplation; yet still, the singular character of this ruin is particularly interesting. Masses of wall still remain, the proud effigies of sinking greatness; and the shattered tower seems to nod at every murmur of the blast, and menace the observer with immediate annihilation. Amongst these ruins we lingered till the whole was silvered by the pale rays of the moon. To form a conjecture, on the extent of its apartments, is now impossible; but it is thus described by Leland, in his _Itinerary_:

“The castelle is a very large thinge, and hath many toures yn it; but
the body of the worke was never finished.

“The gate-house is a marvellous strong and great peace of work, but
the fastigia of it were never finished. If they had beene, it might
have beene countid among the most memorable peaces of workys in
England. It hath diverse wardes and dyverse portcolicis. On the
front of the gate is set the image of Henry Lacy, earl of Lincoln, in
his stately long robes.

“There is another very high towre, and larg, in the castelle caullid
the Redde Towre.

“Sum say, that the erle of Lincoln’s sunne felle into the castelle
welle, and ther dyed; whereupon he never passid to finisch the
castelle.

“King Edward the Fourth was besieged in Denbigh castelle, and ther it
was pactid between king Henry’s men and hym that he should with life
departe the reaulme, never to returne. If they had taken king
Edwarde there debellatum fuisset.”

The parish church stands within the walls of the original town. Below the castle are the fragments of an old church, which for particular reasons, that cannot now be ascertained, was never finished: it contains nine windows on two sides, with a large and handsome one on the east.

The vale of Clwyd still retains the character of luxuriant fertility; about two miles from hence, in our way to

RUTHIN,

“Denbigh, fair empress of the vale,” with its tottering towers, formed a most beautiful landscape; whilst the neat little hamlet of Whitchurch peeped from among the pomp of groves. At the small village of St. Fynnon St. Dyfnog, this curious inscription over a door,

“Near this place, within a vault,
There is such liquor fix’d,
You’ll say that water, hops, and malt,
Were never better mix’d;”

invited the “weary-way wanderer,” to partake of the _good things_ within: this inclined us to be better acquainted with the author of this _extraordinary_ stanza; and we intreated the Landlord to be our director to the much-esteemed well of St. Dyfnog. Passing through the church-yard, and from thence through the passage of an alms’-house, we reached a plantation of trees, with a broad gravel-walk, almost concealed from day’s garish light, by the thick foliage: this brought us to the fountain, enclosed in an angular wall, which forms a bath of considerable size; and so

—“far retir’d
Among the windings of a woody vale,
By solitude and deep surrounding shades,
But more by bashful modesty, conceal’d;”

that the “lovely young Lavinia” might here plunge into the flood, secure from the intrusion of Palemon. Many wonderful qualities are attributed to this fountain; but it is more particularly celebrated for the cure of the rheumatism: the water has no peculiar taste. We returned by a subterraneous path under the road, which led to the pleasure-grounds, adjoining the seat of Major Wylyn.

Several seats were beautifully dispersed on each side of the vale; among which, Lord Bagot’s and Lord Kirkwall’s formed the most prominent features in the landscape.

Ruthin is a large neat town, only divided from the parish of Llanruth, by a strong stone bridge: the scite of the church is extremely pretty, and is a handsome modern edifice: here is a monument to Dr. Gabriel Goodman, Dean of Westminster, in the time of Elizabeth, and likewise a native of this place. A new gaol has lately been built here by Mr. Turner. The remains of the castle, at the southern extremity of the town, are scarcely worthy a moment’s observation; and the scite of the old chapel is now converted into a bowling-green. Owen Glendwr demolished this town by fire, September 20, 1400. In the last century, the loyalists fortified the castle, and sustained a long siege in 1646.

We still continued skirting the rich vale of Clwyd; but winding up a steep hill, overlooking the whole of it, from one extremity to the other, we were reluctantly compelled to bid a final adieu to all its vistas, hamlets, steeples; the whole prospect, glowing with luxuriance, seemed to assume fresh beauties, at this our farewell view: the cattle, which were grazing in the shorn meadows, and beautifully contrasted with the ripening corn, appeared more animated; and we discovered, or thought we discovered, an additional number of villages, peeping from the woody skirts of the sloping hills. From this point the vale is certainly seen to great advantage. To give a still greater effect, a thunder-storm came rolling on; and the clouds were

“Silent borne along, heavy and slow,
With the big stores of steaming oceans charg’d.”

This storm compelled us to seek for a shelter, in a miserable pot-house; but the civility of the landlady fully compensated for its want of accommodations. The effects of the storm rendered the remainder of our journey much more agreeable, and the heat less oppressive: a dull, uninteresting road continued, till we arrived within four or five miles of

WREXHAM.

The contrast was too striking to escape our notice; but having climbed a steep eminence, the eye commanded an almost boundless range of land; and the faint colour of the hills, retiring in the distance, was beautifully combined with the mellow green of nearer woods. The counties of Cheshire, Shropshire, and a considerable part of Wales, were extended, like a map, for our inspection; the town of Wrexham, rising in the bottom, animated the scene, with its noble tower, overtopping the numberless little steeples near it. Close to the road, we observed several coal and lead mines, and a melting house for forming lead into pigs; these works belong to Mr. Wilkinson.

The dirty out-skirts of Wrexham, by no means prepossessed us in favor of the town, but viewing it more leisurely, we can safely affirm, that it is not only the largest, but the best built town in Wales.

To the kind attentions of a clergyman in the neighbourhood of Wrexham, we are much indebted, and under his directions, we surveyed the lions with great advantage. Our friendly Ciceroni first conducted us to the church, an elegant building of the reign of Henry VII. The tower is an hundred and forty feet high, and esteemed “a beautiful specimen of the florid, or reformed Gothic, which prevailed about that time;” all the figures and ornaments are well designed, and still in high preservation. The inside is not less elegant; it has lately been neatly repaired, with a good gallery and organ: the painted altar piece is well executed. On the left, facing the altar, is a very handsome monument by Roubilliac, to the memory of Mrs. Mary Middleton; both the design, and execution, reflect the highest credit on the sculptor; the subject is the last day; at the sound of the trumpet, a tomb of black marble bursts open, and a beautiful female figure, clothed in white, appears rising from it, just awoke from the sleep of death; her form dignified; candour, innocence, and celestial joy shine in her countenance, and gives it the most feeling and animated expression: in the back ground, an obelisk, supposed to be erected to her memory, is rent asunder; above, an angel, enveloped in a cloud, is pointing to brighter scenes. In this church are two other monuments, executed by the same celebrated master, in memory of some of the Middletons; their designs, though striking, cannot be compared to his last day. Our worthy conductor, perceiving we were great amateurs of paintings, and careful that nothing of consequence should be passed unnoticed by us, particularly wished us to examine the performance of a young artist, then at Wrexham: a copy amongst others, of a painting of Rembrant’s, taken by Mr. Allen, from a celebrated picture, in the possession of Lord Craven, was most ingenuously executed; the subject is an old man, instructing a young boy; the attention of the latter, most admirably preserved; the head of the former, and the hand particularly, most highly finished. Without any exaggeration, this painting would do credit to the most scientific painter, and be esteemed invaluable; it is therefore to be hoped, from the hands of so young an artist as Mr. Allen, that this performance will be disposed of, where judges of painting may view it with a critic’s eye, and recommend its merits to those who can afford to encourage industry and ingenuity.

Our friend’s invitation to his hospitable parsonage, and agreeable family, was too kindly urged, possibly to be refused, and in our way to

MARCH WIEL,

we visited the seat of P. York, Esq. The grounds and plantations, are very extensive; and the bowery walk, while they afford refreshing shelter from a summer’s sun, allow partial views of the counties of Cheshire and Shropshire; with the Weeakin and Brydyork hills: in short, through these groves

“How long so e’er the wanderer roves, each step
Shall wake fresh beauties, each short point presents
A different picture; new, and yet the same.”

The tower of Wrexham, and the town itself, as occasion offers, is a nearer, and an additional charming object. In an alteration of the walks a few years since, were discovered below the surface of the ground, the shattered walls of an ancient castle; these fragments Mr. Yorke has left unimpaired, and they remain a momento of the vicissitudes of fortune. The entrenchments round the castle, and likewise the original scite of the keep, are still very apparent.

The house itself is very indifferent: Watt’s dyke runs through part of the grounds. In a parlour opposite the garden, we observed some fine paintings of the Hardwick family. Mr. Yorke has dedicated another room to the royal tribes of Wales, {144} where the arms and lines of the descent, as far as they can be traced, are emblazoned and hung up.

In the coolness of the evening, our hospitable host, conducted us to the neat and elegant little country church of March Wiel, lately cased with stone; and in the year 1788, ornamented with a new painted window by Mr. Eginton, of Birmingham; the twenty-one compartments contain the arms and crests of the Middletons and Yorks, with rich transparent borders. This window is undoubtedly very elegant, but the subject in my own opinion, more adapted to a hall, than an ornament to a church window. The high tower appears not in proportion with the body of the church.

Deeply impressed with sentiments of gratitude towards our Reverend friend, and sensible of his hospitality and kind intentions, we took leave of him early the next morning, and pursued our route to

RUABON,

purporting to visit Wynstay Park, the much admired seat of Sir Watkin Williams Wynne. On leaving Marchwiel, a most delightful prospect spread before us; in the retrospect, the tower of Wrexham Church brought to our recollection the views of Magdalen College Tower, in the vicinity of Oxford.

The park of Wynstay is well stocked with red deer; excellent plantations; and the house is an elegant modern structure, but nothing in the inside particularly deserving the attention of the traveller. In the grounds, the chief object, worthy of inspection, is a very elegant obelisk, now erecting to the memory of the present Sir Watkin’s father. The height is an hundred and one feet; the base of it sixteen, and the top nine, built with free-stone, and fluted: round the top is formed a gallery, with a handsome urn in bronze, after an elegant design, cast in London; round the base of the column, are wreaths of oak leaves, in the beaks of four eagles, cast in the same metal. On the south-west side is a door, with a stair-case within the obelisk leading to the top: we regretted that the key could not be procured, as the prospect from that eminence must be extremely fine. On the other three sides, an appropriate inscription, in English, Welch, and Latin, is to be carved.

Through this park runs Offa’s Dyke, thrown up by the great King of Mercia, from whence it derives its name, to check the irruptions of the Welch, mark the confines of each country, and give greater security to his own. It begins at Basingwerk, in Flintshire, and ends at Chepstow, in Monmouthshire; extending a line of not less than one hundred and fifty miles, over rocks and mountains. This great undertaking still retains the ancient name of _Clawdh Offa_, or Offa’s Dyke.

Passing through the little village of Ruabon, situated at the extremity of Sir Watkin’s Park, a very interesting and picturesque country, composed of rich vallies, and gently sloping hills, presented itself to our view; and, at some distance, we soon caught a glimpse of Chirk Castle, a noble seat of the family of the Myddleton’s, standing on an eminence. Four miles from Llangollen, we enquired for the wonderful

PONTCYSYLLTY, {147}

(pronounced _Pont y Casulte_) or famous aqueduct, now erecting over the river Dee, and found ourselves within half a mile of this great and astonishing undertaking. It is not yet finished; eleven pillars are already completed, built of sandy stone, which is dug on the spot; they are fifteen yards asunder, and their height, from the bed of the river, one hundred and twenty feet: over the whole is to run an iron trough, sufficiently deep for barges of considerable burthen. On the middle column is the following inscription:

“The nobility and gentry of
The adjacent counties,
Having united their efforts with
The great commercial interest of this country,
In creating an intercourse and union between
England and Wales,
By a navigable communication of the three rivers,
Severn, Dee, and Mercey;
For the mutual benefit of agriculture and trade,
Caus’d the first stone of this aqueduct of
PONTCYSYLLTY
To be laid on the 25th day of July, M.DCC.XCV.
When Richard Myddleton, of Chirk, Esq. M.P.
One of the original patrons of the
Ellesmere canal,
Was lord of this manor,
And in the reign of our Sovereign
George the Third;
When the equity of the laws, and
The security of property,
Promoted the general welfare of the nation;
While the arts and sciences flourish’d
By his patronage, and
The conduct of civil life was improv’d
By his example.”

This wonderful aqueduct reflects great honour to the undertakers of so admirable, as well as valuable enterprize; and, should their hazardous scheme succeed, the whole nation must indubitably reap great advantages: several columns must still be erected, before the level can be accomplished. It is forming over the most beautiful and romantic part of the river Dee; a bridge likewise, not far from this spot, adds considerably to the beauty of the scene. Wood, water, and sloping hills, all combine to render this vale interesting; several detached cottages, are sprinkled through its wooded declivities, and here and there a gentleman’s seat, “embosomed high in tufted trees,” makes a pleasing feature, in the fascinating landscape. Returning to the turnpike-road, a short saunter soon brought us to the romantically-situated town of

LLANGOLLEN,

(pronounced _Llangothlen_) completely environed with mountains, with a high hill to our right, bearing on its narrow peak the small remains of Castel Dinas Bran. The bridge, adjacent to the town, thrown over the rapid Dee, consisting of six arches, and formerly esteemed _One of the principal Wonders of Wales_, by no means answered our expectations. Some difficulty, no doubt, attended its first erection, as the foundation is built on the solid rock: it is now repairing.

The elegant description of the valley in the kingdom of Amhara, by Dr. Johnson, is very applicable to Llangollen; for “all the blessings of nature seemed here to be collected, and its evils extracted and excluded.” Without a sigh of regret, not like the discontented Rasselas, I could here pass the remainder of my days, “in full conviction, that this vale contains within its reach all that art or nature can bestow; _I could_ pity those, whom fate had excluded from this seat of tranquillity, as the sport of chance, and the slaves of misery.” Such is the enviable situation of Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Ponsonby, who thus veiled in obscurity have fitted up, in a true characteristic stile, an elegant little cottage, at the west extremity of the town, situated on a knole: the two rooms, which are allotted for the inspection of strangers, are very handsomely furnished; the dining-room is ornamented with drawings, the most favourite spots in the vicinity being selected as the subjects. The window commands a prospect of the mountains, which awfully rise in front. The study, looking on the well-arranged plantations of the garden, was appropriately furnished with a choice collection of books: we regretted, in the absence of the gardener, that we could not gain admittance to the grounds. The vale of Llangollen, and this enviable retreat, have been the subject of much admiration both in verse and prose; and highly deserve the praises, which have been lavished upon it.

“Say, ivy’d Valle Crucis; time delay’d
Dim on the brink of Deva’s wand’ring floods,
Your iv’d arch glitt’ring thro’ the tangled shade,
Your grey hills tow’ring o’er your night of woods;
Deep in the vale recesses as you stand,
And, desolately great, the rising sigh command;
Say, lovely ruin’d pile, when former years
Saw your pale train at midnight altars bow;
Saw superstition frown upon the tears
That mourn’d the rash, irrevocable vow;
Wore one young lip gay Eleanora’s {151a} smile?
Did Zara’s {151b} look serene one tedious hour beguile?”

The bridge of Llangollen is thus described by the elegant pen of Mr. Pennant:

“The bridge, which was founded by the first _John Trevor_, bishop of
_St. Asaph_, {151c} who died in 1357, is one of the _Tri Thlws
Cymru_, or three beauties of _Wales_: but more remarkable for its
situation than structure. It consists of five arches; whose widest
does not exceed twenty-eight feet in diameter. The river usually
runs under only one; where it has formed a black chasm of vast depth,
into which the water pours with great fury, from a high broken ledge,
formed in the smooth, and solid rock, which composes the whole bed of
the river. The view through the arches, either upwards or downwards,
is extremely picturesque.”

Having satisfied our curiosity, Dinas Bran, or Crow Castle, next invited our attention, and having attained the summit of a steep and craggy hill, commanding a pleasing view of Llangollen, we arrived at the ruins, which crest this precipice. The remains of this castle are now so trifling, that it scarcely repays even the enthusiast the trouble of ascending; its appearance is by no means picturesque, not a tree to give effect to the crumbling walls; nor has time spared one of the towers.

It was formerly the residence of Myfanwy Vechan, so celebrated in verse. The castle is built of the stone which composes the hill, on which it is erected. The prospect is very pleasing. Chirk Castle, Wynstay Park, {152} and many other seats of respectability, more particularly conspicuous; great part of the vale, and the meandering course of the Dee, may here be traced; whilst the opposite hills are shelved off in an extraordinary and unusual manner, resembling so many walls, or fortifications. Having descended this steep eminence, we continued our route to Valle Crucis Abbey, about two miles distant from Llangollen. It would be advisable for strangers first to visit Valle Crucis, and take Dinas Bran Castle in their way back to their inn. The transmutations of time are frequently ridiculous: the long aisles of this monastery, which were once only responsive to the slow-breathed chaunt, now repeat the rude dissonance of ducks, cows, and all manner of poultry. Instead of these emblems of rusticity, the mind’s eye is more accustomed to appropriate these antique edifices to the midnight procession of monks issuing from their cells, to perform the solemn service. These neglected walls are too deeply-shrouded in their melancholy grove of ash-trees, to be seen to advantage; an axe, judiciously used, would be of service to the ruin, as the elegant window of the chapel is completely concealed by the luxuriant vegetation around; still, however, a pleasing melancholy pervades the whole scene. The abbey is beautifully skreened, on all sides, by woody hills, which entirely protect it from the inclemency of the winter.

This ancient cistertian monastery was founded by Madoc ap Griffith Maylor, in the year 1200, and is sometimes called Llan-Egwiste, or Llanegwast. In this vale is the pillar of Eglwyseg; but the country people appeared quite ignorant of its situation. Returning to Llangollen, we pursued the turnpike road to the neat village of

CHIRK.

For some way we followed the strait and formal course of a canal, near this, communicating with the Pont-y-Casulte; we again paused to survey this wonderful design. The vale, on our left, was indescribably beautiful; and over the whole was diffused the purple glow of the even. The prospect was composed of the miniature parts of the immense landscape we had viewed from Dinas Bran Hill, each of which we now contemplated separately as a scene. The moon’s checkered gleam besilvered the walls of Chirk Castle, just as we entered the Hand Inn, where, after the fatigues of a long walk, we met with excellent accommodations, when considered as a village.

After breakfast the next morning, we endeavoured to obtain admission to see the inside of Chirk Castle, but without success, though now only inhabited by servants, who were peremptorily commanded to admit no strangers. It is situated on an eminence, surrounded by a park, and fine plantations, which are very judiciously laid out; this elegant mansion has been in the possession of the Myddleton family, ever since the year 1614. Having gratified ourselves with a survey of this noble park, we returned to the Oswestry road. Leaving the village of Chirk, we crossed a new bridge, of one arch, elegantly constructed: near is another aqueduct, of considerable extent, now erecting over this river and valley, which, though very inferior to the Pont-y-Casulte, is still a great undertaking: it is several hundred yards in length, and the brick piers rise fifty or sixty feet above the level of the water. Near this is a rich coal mine, lately discovered. From hence to Oswestry, we traversed a rich enclosed country, and enjoyed a scene particularly pleasing: all the inhabitants were collected, to gather in the produce of the ripened field; and

“Thro’ their cheerful band the rural talk
The rural scandal, and the rural jest,
Fled harmless.”

To the traveller and the poet, such scenes afford an ample field for amusement; but waving corn is ill adapted to the canvass of the painter. About two miles from Oswestry, we passed through the little town of

WHITTINGTON.

At this place was fought the battle between Oswald, the Christian King of the Northumbrians, and Pènda, the Pagan King of the Mercians, in which the former lost his life. An easy walk soon brought us to

OSWESTRY.

Its only relicks now remaining are the ruins of a chapel, built over a remarkably fine spring of water; to this was formerly attributed the cure of various diseases, incident both to man and beast; and though its miracles have long ceased, yet it still bears the name of the saint. The remains of the castle, supposed to have been built at the time of the conquest, are now almost too trivial to be noticed. This town was garrisoned by the King, in the beginning of the civil wars, but captured in June, 1644, by the Earl of Denbigh and General Mytton.

In passing through the town of Oswestry, we noticed the church, as being a very neat building; but either from our own neglect, or imagining it not to be ancient, we did not inspect the interior. Oswestry suffered greatly by fire, in the year 1542, and likewise in 1567.

“The chirk of St. Oswalde (says Leland) is a very faire leddid chirch
with a great tourrid steple, but it standith without the New Gate; so
that no chirch is there within the towne. This chirch was some time
a monasterie, caullid the _White Minster_. After turnid to a paroche
chirch, and the personage impropriate to the abbey of Shreusbyri.
The cloister stoode in hominum memoria ubi monumenta monachorum. The
place and streate wer the chirch standithe is caullid Stretllan.”

From this place to

LLANYMYNACH,

a continuation of the rich enclosed country, shewing to advantage the agriculture of these parts, attended us, till we reached the foot of the hill of Llanymynach. From the summit of this we enjoyed a most beautiful and boundless prospect, commanding the whole dome of the sky: all individual dignity was overpowered by the immensity of the whole view, which consisted more particularly of the rivers Virnwy and Tannad, joining their waters with the Severn; the lofty water-fall of Pistyll Rhaiadr—the Breddin hills—and the Ferwyn mountains. The geological observations on Llanymynach hill, by Mr. Aikin, are so accurate, that to attempt any further description would be deemed highly presumptuous in me; I shall therefore avail myself of an account, so ably delineated:

“The hill of Llanymynach, is not only remarkable for the fine
prospect from its top, it is still more worthy notice, as containing
by far the most extensive _lime-works_ of any in this part of the
country. The lime of Llanymynach rock is in high request as a
manure, and is sent by land carriage as far as Montgomery, New-town,
and even Llanidloes: it sells at the kilns for seven-pence a bushel,
and from thirty to thirty-six bushels, are reckoned a waggon-load;
the coal with which it is burnt, is brought partly from the
neighbourhood of Oswestry, and partly from Sir Watkin Williams
Wynne’s pits, near Ruaben. The lime lies in strata, parallel to the
horizon, varying in thickness from three inches to five feet; it is
of an extraordinary hardness, with but little calcarious spar, and
few shells, or other marine exuvial; its colour reddish brown,
burning to almost white. Between the strata of lime, we found a very
tenacious smooth clay, orange coloured ochre, and green plumose
carbonate of copper, or malachite. It was in search of this copper,
that the Romans carried on here such extensive works, of which the
remains are still very visible: they consist of a range of from
twenty to thirty shallow pits, the heaps of rubbish from the mouths
of which, abound with small pieces of copper ore, and a cave of
considerable dimensions, terminating in an irregular winding passage,
of unknown length, connected with which, are two air shafts still
remaining open, and the appearances of several others, now filled up:
in some of these caverns are found, large and beautiful specimens of
stalactite. One of the levels was explored some years ago, and in it
was discovered a skeleton, with mining tools, and some Roman copper
coins. The whole mass of the hill, seems more or less impregnated
with copper: whenever the surface is uncovered, there are evident
marks of the presence of this metal, and the stones composing the
rampart of Offa’s Dyke, which encompasses two sides of the hill, are
in many parts quite covered with _cupreous efflorenscences_. Between
the village and the rock, passes a branch of the Ellesmere canal,
which, when navigable, will add much to the value of these works, by
rendering them more accessible to the surrounding country, and may
induce some spirited adventurer, to recommence a search after copper,
which, it is evident, was formerly prosecuted with considerable
success.”

This description of Llanymynach hill, we pronounce from our own observation, to be so very accurate, that the length of the quotation will be readily excused. Leaving the pretty village of Llanymynach, situated on the banks of the Virnwy, we resumed our journey to Welch Pool; the face of the country was pleasing, and we soon reached the Breddin hills, on whose summit a column is erected to commemorate the victory of Admiral Lord Rodney over the French, in the year 1782. Not far from hence, we passed a handsome aqueduct, admirably constructed over the river Virnwy, of great strength and stability. The vale of the Severn affords much picturesque scenery, and we at length arrived at

WELCH POOL

Quay, about three miles from that place; several vessels were lying here, which carry on a constant traffic with Worcester, and the towns situated on the banks of this noble river. Before our entrè into Pool, Powis Castle appeared on an eminence, immediately rising behind the town, and beautifully backed with a large plantation of trees.

Welch Pool derives its name from a black pool in its neighbourhood; its Welch appellation signifying, a quagmire or pool, and is one of the five boroughs in Montgomeryshire, which jointly send a member to parliament. The town is by no means neat; it stands on a low hill, and consists of one principal street; in which are situated the new county hall, and market-places. The Severn is navigable within three quarters of a mile of this town, and computed not less than two hundred miles from its juncture with the Bristol Channel. It is the great market for the Welch flannel, called _gwart_, or webb, prepared in many parts of Merionethshire, and generally used for soldiers’ clothes. This trade, however, has of late been very inconsiderable.

Powis Castle lies to the right, about one mile from Pool, on the ridge of a rock, retaining a mixture of castle and mansion: it is built of red stone, and originally contained within its walls two castles: the entrance is between two round towers. There are several family portraits in a long gallery, measuring one hundred and seventeen feet by twenty: {161a} it was formerly one hundred and sixty-seven feet long, but an apartment has been taken out of one end. {161b} The gardens still retain that stiff formality, so much in vogue many years ago; but the curious water-works, in imitation of the wretched taste of St. Germain’s en Laye, are now destroyed. The prospect from the castle is very extensive, comprehending a view of Welch Pool, Vale, and Freiddin Hills.

From hence to

MONTGOMERY,

the Ellesmere Canal accompanied us part of the way; and at length, after a fatiguing walk, we reached the Green Dragon, a small and comfortable inn. The scite of Montgomery is very pleasing, on a gentle ascent, and backed by a steep hill, beautifully clothed with the rich plantations belonging to Lord Powis. The town itself is a straggling place, and little to recommend it. The remains of the castle are now too trifling, to interest the passing traveller.

In the year 1094, this castle was gallantly defended by the Normans; but the Welch, at last, finding meant to undermine the walls, took it by storm; and, after putting the garrison to the sword, levelled that fortress to the ground. It was afterwards rebuilt by Henry III. in the year 1221, as a check to the incursions of the Welch; but a second time razed to the ground by Llewellyn the Great, Prince of Wales; it afterwards became the seat of the Lords Herbert of Cherbury, and their ancestors, till reduced to its present ruinous condition by the civil wars.

The road to

BISHOPS CASTLE,

brought us through a very rich country; and on ascending a hill, about five miles from Montgomery, a retrospect of the far distant mountainous country of Wales, to which we were now bidding a last adieu, irresistibly brought on a train of serious reflections. In a retrospect like this, where the subject and the scene must inspire serious thoughts, such traces are not unpleasing; they tend to promote one general effect—the love of contemplation. We enumerated the little incidents which had taken place, indulging reflections on scenes for ever past:—we erected, on the spot which we esteemed most adapted to retirement, the visionary cottage: our schemes were instantly arranged,—fancy fashioned its ornaments, adapted its appendages;—and fancy will ever exceed realities. But all our air-built plans of future happiness soon vanished:—and alas! when

—“fancy scatters roses all around,
What blissful visions rise! In prospect bright
Awhile they charm the foul: but scarce attain’d,
The gay delusion fades. Another comes,
The soft enchantment is again renew’d,
And youth again enjoys the airy dreams
Of fancied good.”—

Bishops Castle is situated in a bottom: we found it a more extensive place than we had any idea of expecting; but being shortly convinced, that there was nothing particular to require a long stay, and having recruited ourselves at the Castle Inn, we hastened to leave the town. The road, for the first seven miles, continually dipped into shallow vallies, well wooded, affording cursory views, with many a substantial farmer’s habitation lurking amongst the trees. At length, a rich and noble vale, with extensive woods, on our right, animated with several gentlemen’s seats, and watered by an overflowing stream, running immediately close to the road, accompanied us to

LUDLOW;

situated on an eminence, in the midst of this most luxuriant country. After the many indifferent Welch towns which we had passed through, since the commencement of our pedestrian excursion, we felt ourselves not a little chagrined at our uncouth appearance, in entering so gay a place. The streets are commodious, and the houses and public buildings extremely neat. The gravel walks round the castle are extensive, and command, at occasional points, distinct prospects of the gentlemen’s seats, in the neighbourhood, with their grounds, and noble plantations. The river Teme gives additional beauty to this fascinating spot; the new bridge, recently erected a little below the castle, forms likewise, from this spot, by no means an uninteresting object; add to this, at suitable distances, the river, by means of dams, is formed into small artificial cascades. At the extremity of the town, is another bridge, separating the counties of Shropshire and Hereford. These walks were laid out in the year 1772, by the Countess of Powis, at a great expence. The overshadowing trees not only afford refreshing shelter from a summer’s sun, but are likewise a protection from the piercing winter’s wind: indeed,

—“I cou’d rove
At morn, at noon, at eve, by lunar ray,
In each returning season, through your shade,
Ye reverend woods; cou’d visit ev’ry dell,
Each hill, each breezy lawn, each wand’ring brook,
And bid the world admire; each magic spot again
Cou’d seek, and tell again of all its charms.”

Towards the North, the mazy course of the Teme.—Oakley Park, the elegant seat of the Dowager Lady Clive.—The Clee Hills.—The celebrated Caer Caradoc, with the other eminences, near Stretton, terminating the view, present a most fascinating landscape. Towards the West, a combination of rock, wood, and water, gratifies the warmest wish of fancy.

The Whitecliffe, opposite to the castle, and Hackluyt’s Close, near the Leominster road, are the two other most favourite walks; but that round the castle is resorted to, as the most fashionable promenade.

The town of Ludlow has been calculated to contain seven hundred and two houses, and nearly three thousand five hundred and sixty-five persons. {166} The public buildings are, the Market-house, the Guildhall, the Prison, called Goalford’s Tower, and the Cross: the rooms over the latter, are dedicated for the instruction of thirty poor boys, and fifteen poor girls; and the former, at a proper age, are apprenticed out. The town enjoys no particular manufactory, but its chief trade consists in the article of gloves.

The castle, the palace of the Prince of Wales, in right of his principality, is now entirely in ruins, except Mortimer’s tower, which was repaired by Sir Henry Sidney, during his presidency: it is now inhabited by an old servant of Lord Powis’s, a very civil and intelligent man, who related, with the utmost concern, the sad vicissitudes this castle had experienced; he insisted on our entering the tower of his habitation, and ascending the crumbling stairs, for a full display of the various beauties in the vicinity of Ludlow, he expatiated much on a valuable diamond ring, which he had discovered _himself_, when attempting to drain a cellar; the inscription of Hebrew characters, round the gold, within the ring, was interpreted by the _larned_, “A good heart;” this, and several coins of silver and gold, which were found at the same time, are now in the possession of Lord Powis: near the same spot, a number of skeletons were likewise dug up. He next conducted us to a small room in this tower, to observe an old stone placed over the fire-place, with a cross; the letters W. S. and the date 1575, engraven on it.

Over the South-east gateway, leading into the interior of the castle, are the arms of Elizabeth, Queen of England, and beneath, those of the Sydney family, with the following inscription:

HOMINIBUS INGRATIS LOQUIMINI
LAPIDES—ANN, REGNI REGINÆ
ELIZABETHAE 23.—THE 28 YEAR
COPLET OF THE RESIDENCE
OF SYR HENRY SYDNEY KNIGHT
OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER OF THE
GARTER, 1581.

This castle, founded by Roger de Montgomery, on a rock, in the North-east angle of the town, supposed to be in the year 1112, was considerably enlarged by Sir Henry Sydney. Its ancient British name, _Dinan Llys Tywysog_, signifies the _Prince’s Palace_. The vicissitudes of war have frequently been exemplified in this castle; it has had its Lords and its Princes; it has been plundered, captured, dismantled, and repaired, in those periods of civil warfare, which this unfortunate country, in former times, continually experienced. Philips, in “ The History and Antiquities of Shrewsbury,” during those melancholy troubles, gives some account of this castle. Some historians affirm, that Edward V. and his brother, were born in Ludlow Castle; but others, not crediting this assertion, attribute their birth to Wigmore: certain, however, it is, that during their minority, they here held their court, under the tuition of Lord Anthony Woodville, and Lord Scales, till they were removed to London, and soon after smothered in the Tower, by the command of their cruel and ambitious uncle, the Duke of Gloucester. Here, likewise, Prince Arthur, the eldest son of Henry VII. celebrated his marriage with the virtuous Catharine of Arragon; and in 1502, he here paid the debt of nature, and was buried in the cathedral church of Worcester.

The account of the representation, at Ludlow, of Milton’s celebrated Mask of Comus, is thus mentioned in the Life of that poet, prefixed to Newton’s edition: “It was in the year 1634, that his Mask was presented at Ludlow Castle. There was formerly a president of Wales, and a sort of a court kept at Ludlow, which has since been abolished; and the president, at that time, was the Earl of Bridgwater, before whom Milton’s Mask was presented, on Michaelmas night; and the principal parts, those of the Two Brothers, were performed by his Lordship’s sons, the Lord Brackly, and Mr. Thomas Egerton; and that of the Lady, by his Lordship’s daughter, the Lady Alice Egerton.”

In the first year of William and Mary, the presidency was dissolved by act of parliament, “being a great grievance to the subject, and a means to introduce an arbitrary power, especially in the late reign, when a new convert family were at the head of it.”

The church next demanded our attention, the only one belonging to this town. The time of the foundation of this ancient and elegant structure cannot now be strictly ascertained: it is situated on an eminence, in the centre of the town. The square tower is lofty, and of very light architecture, but the upper part suffered much, by the all-destroying hand of Oliver Cromwell. The highly-finished statues round the battlements, are much mutilated, and many entirely destroyed. On entering the church, six light Gothic fluted arches on each side, with four similar ones of larger dimensions, supporting the tower, are strikingly grand. Under the organ-loft, we passed into the chancel, now only made use of, for the administration of the sacrament. This is a most elegant building, with thirteen stalls on each side, similar, in stile, to the generality of cathedrals; the seats of the stalls, all of which turn back, exhibit specimens of curious workmanship, with strange devices, and ridiculous conceits. Some of the glass painted windows are still in good preservation; the large one, over the altar-piece, represents the History of St. Lawrence, to whom this church is dedicated, in fifty-four compartments. The other windows of the chancel are much mutilated, collected from different parts of the church, and several panes broken, by the unmeaning idleness of boys;—regardless of these valuable relicks of antiquity.—In the side of the wall, near the altar, are two stone stalls, with a piscina opposite.

In this chancel is a handsome monument, erected to the memory of Robert Townsend, and his wife, with several figures of their sons and daughters carved round the bottom: over them are the arms of their family and connexions: it bears the date of 1581.

A modern monument to Theophilus Solway, Esq.

An ancient one to Ambrosia Sydney, who died at Ludlow Castle. This lady was daughter to Sir Henry Sidney, who attained the important situation of the Presidency of Wales, in the year 1564. He died at Bewdley, 1584, and left this singular injunction to his executors: “that his heart should be buried at Shrewsbury, his bowels at Bewdley, and his body at Ludlow, in the tomb of his favourite daughter Ambrosia:” this order was punctually executed; and the leaden urn, containing his heart, was six inches deep, and five inches in diameter at the top, with this inscription carved three times round it:

HER LITH THE HARTE OF SYR HENRYE SYDNEY L. P. _Anno Domini_, 1586.

For an engraving of this urn, taken from a drawing of Mr. S. Nicholas, see the Gentleman’s Magazine for September, 1794.

Another monument {172a} to Edward Wetson, and his wife, kneeling opposite to each other.

In a small chapel, to the left of the chancel, are three very handsome painted glass-windows, containing the history of the Apostles, in eighteen compartments; there is also a rosary.

In this chapel is an elegant marble tomb, to Sir Thomas Bridgeman, serjeant at law. In this church is likewise buried Sir John Bridgeman, the last president but one of Ludlow Castle. He was extremely rigid in his office: and one Ralph Gittins, who had probably experienced his severity, composed the following epitaph on him:

“Here lies Sir John Bridgeman, clad in his clay;
God said to the Devil, sirrah, take him away.” {172b}

A chapel corresponding on the opposite side, contains the royal arms of Charles, and several old iron armoury.

Should the tourist find time to make any stay at Ludlow, several excursions in the neighbourhood, will prove highly gratifying. Oakley Park, the elegant seat of the Dowager Lady Clive, claims the greatest attention; it is situated about two miles from Ludlow, on the banks of the Teme river; just beyond this, is a seat of — Walpole, Esq. About five miles is Downton Castle; the noble mansion, and fine walks of Richard Payne Knight, Esq. one of the representatives in Parliament for the borough of Ludlow. Being necessitated to leave this charming country by a particular day, we had no opportunity of visiting these celebrated, and much admired seats.

With regret we left the fascinating situation of Ludlow, and crossing Lawford’s Bridge, we ascended an eminence, along a fine beautiful terrace, commanding a most charming, and pleasant country to our left, with the fertile county of Hereford, abundant with orchards, which were all bending with the produce of the year. About two miles from Ludlow on the right, we paused to admire the delightful seat of Theophilus Richard Solway, Esq. situated on an eminence, and skirted by a rich plantation of wood, towards the West: it is called the Lodge. Descending into a bottom, a rich country, studded with farm-houses, soon brought us to the town of

LEOMINSTER,

or Lemister, consisting of one long street; the Market-place in the centre, bearing a very old date, and likewise the church, are both deserving of the traveller’s notice. It is situated in a flat, and the country round it not particularly interesting.

From hence, a turnpike-road, shewing to advantage, the rich culture of the country, soon brought us within sight of the venerable cathedral of

HEREFORD,

backed by a sloping eminence just rising behind, and beautifully clothed with wood. Being under a particular engagement to meet a party at Ross, to accompany us down the Wye the following day, time would not allow us to investigate this respectable city, so minutely, as it deserves. Our observations therefore, were so cursory, that “The Hereford Guide,” must supply the deficiences in this part of our journal; this neglect, the tourist must attribute to our delay at the engaging town of Ludlow.

At Hereford, we for some time hesitated respecting the hire of a boat to convey us to Ross; but the exorbitant demand of the boatmen soon determined us to pursue the turnpike-road, and follow, as near as possible, the course of the Wye. The orchards were overcharged with “bending fruit,” and seemed to prognosticate a more favourable cyder season, than has of late been experienced. The retrospect of the city, with its ancient cathedral, formed a most attracting view; and about three miles, a most lovely vale, bounded by the hills of South Wales, arrested our attention. A continuation of the same scenery of orchards, in which Herefordshire so peculiarly abounds, with the road continually dipping into shallow vallies, attended us within five miles of Ross, when, ascending a steep hill, a view of that town, or, rather, of its far conspicuous spire, broke in upon the reposing character of the scene. This presently conducted us to Wilton Bridge, thrown over the Wye, about half a mile from the town; and, leaving the castle of Wilton to the left, ascended the town of

ROSS,

to the inn, so celebrated as the original habitation of Mr. Kyrle; but more generally known by the name of “The Man of Ross.” The landlord seems rather to depend upon the custom of strangers, from this circumstance, than the accommodations the inn offers. On the bridge we paused a short time, to take a view of the meandering Vaga, which here considerably widens; several pleasure-boats, of various construction, were riding at anchor, and united to enliven the watry scene, whilst its smooth tranquil surface, reflected and reverted every object situated on the bank.

The life and character of Mr. Kyrle has too often been insisted on, and too frequently celebrated in verse, to be again repeated, unless to “point its moral to the heart;” teaching us, that self-approbation can confer an inward happiness, superior to all worldly applause; for,

“What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy;
The soul’s calm sunshine, and the heart-felt joy,
Is virtue’s prize.”—

Such a bustle pervaded the whole town, of parties assembling here, for an aquatic expedition to Monmouth, the following day, that with difficulty we obtained a small room: from this circumstance, it would be advisable for parties to secure themselves accommodations during the summer-months, a considerable time beforehand, such is the continued assemblage of parties forming for the Wye: a boat likewise should be hired, and by mentioning the number of your party, the landlord will be a proper judge, respecting the size. Strangers may pass, with pleasure, the greatest part of a day, in surveying the views in the vicinity of Ross; views, which must gratify the most superficial observer; but more particularly from the church-yard. A walk through the latter place to “The Prospect,” so called from the profuse variety of objects, in the beautiful, and the sublime, which are presented from this spot. The sudden burst of such a collection of beauties, the eye, indeed, cannot contain without gratification. The river below bends itself, in the whimsical and fantastical shape of a horse-shoe: this singular wind of the river—the ruins of Wilton Castle—the luxuriant counties of Hereford and Monmouth, and the beautiful Chase Woods, all combine to promote one peculiarly grand and beautiful effect. To enter into a minute description of objects, so various and extensive, is impossible: in fine, to delineate the beauties of the Vaga, with all its accompaniments, would be enumerating every object that is interesting in Nature. Having sufficiently pored over the view from the Prospect, a ramble through the meadows will next prove highly pleasing.

The situation of Ross, though exceedingly beautiful, has nothing in itself to detain attention: the streets narrow, dirty, and inconvenient. The castle of Wilton, situated on the banks of the Wye, was founded in the reign of Henry I.; it was formerly a nunnery, from whence the Greys de Wilton derive their title.

Early in the morning, we congratulated each other on the favourableness of the weather, and with good spirits provided all the necessaries requisite for our water expedition; the enjoyment of which depends much on the season. The hire of the boat to Monmouth, by water, is one pound eleven shillings and six-pence, not including ten shillings for provisions for the men, who likewise expect an additional small sum, after the fatigues of the day. The boat, navigated by three men, will contain ten or twelve people, without any inconvenience, and is properly protected by an awning, from the heat of the sun. The distance from Ross to Chepstow, by water, is more than forty miles, which strangers occasionally accomplish in one day; but this hurrying method will not allow them an opportunity of inspecting, with proper attention, the various objects which deserve to be noticed; and they cannot possibly find time to leave their boat, and climb the rugged, steep banks of the Wye, in search of views, which, though visited by the discerning few, yet merit the regard of every amateur of nature’s landscapes: and here it may not be improper to mention, the boatmen, from laziness, too frequently suffer these most interesting spots to be passed unnoticed by strangers, merely to avoid the delay of a few minutes. Gilpin, in his excellent treatise, “The Observations on the River Wye,” thus analyzes, in the second section, the beauties of the “echoing Vaga,” and divides its constituent parts into—the _steepness_ of its banks—its _mazy_ course—the _ground_, _woods_, and _rocks_, which are its native ornaments—and, lastly, the _buildings_. To this he might with propriety have added, its _echoes_—the _variety of views_ from its banks—the fishing _coracles_, which are continually on the river; for all these contribute to form one pleasing and interesting effect.

We embarked on board our boat, a little below the town; and the first object which drew our attention, was the ivy-mantled walls of Wilton: the annual growth of the few trees which encircle it, will, in time, render it a more picturesque object; it is at present so sufficiently seen from the water, as not to require the stranger to disembark for farther inspection. A few yards below, we passed under Wilton Bridge, communicating the roads from Hereford to Ross: it is an elegant structure, of several arches. From hence, for four or five miles, the banks are tame and uninteresting, and so high above the river, as to prevent a prospect of the adjacent country; but a group of cattle, some ruminating on the brink, some browzing on the ashlings, which overhung the stream, and others

—“from their sides,
The troublous insects lashing with their tails;
Returning still,”—