Chapter IV (5)

From Mold to Denbigh the distance is about sixteen miles and a half. On the left of the road is Kilken, visited on account of the beautiful carved roof of its church, brought from Basingwerk Abbey, on the dissolution of that house. Above it, on the summit of Moel Famma, is the monument, erected by the inhabitants of the counties of Flint and Denbigh, in commemoration of his late Majesty, King George the Third, having completed the fiftieth year of his reign. The column was designed by Mr. Harrison, of Lancaster, the architect of Chester Castle, &c. Under the column were deposited in a vase numerous coins, illustrative of this memorable reign. Lord Kenyon laid the first stone on the 25th of October, 1810. In the neighbourhood of Kilken are numerous rich lead mines and other works; amongst which, Pen y fron, belonging to Mr. Ingleby, and Llyn y Pandu, held under Lord Grosvenor, by the late John Wilkinson, Esq., are amongst the richest for their veins, these being from four to six feet thick; but the great bodies of water from which they have to free these mines, by means of powerful steam engines, are great drawbacks upon their profits.

Moel Arthur, another portion of the Clwydian Hills, has on the top of it the remains of a fortified British camp, having two very deep fossæ, with corresponding valla, on the approachable sides; and on the precipitous one is a smooth terrace, apparently levelled by art, for exercising the troops.

Penbedw Hall, the seat of Mr. Williams, is a handsome object. On the left of the road, at a small distance from the house, is a carnedd or tumulus, and the remains of a Druidical circle.

Bodfari is by some conjectured to be the Varis of Antoninus; but on this point antiquaries and historians are not agreed, others believing Caerwys to have been that station.

Bachegraig is a most singularly-constructed house, built by Sir Richard Clough, who served his apprenticeship to Sir Thomas Gresham; and having acquired a great fortune by trade, contributed liberally, like his master, towards the building of the Royal Exchange. The house consists of a kind of centre and three sides, which form a quadrangle, enclosing a square area or court. The principal part comprises a hall, with an adjoining parlour of large dimensions; and the other parts of the building are carried up to the unusual height of six stories, terminating with a cupola. We from hence turned back to

CAERWYS,

which lies to the right of the road. It was formerly a place of much consequence, at which the assizes for the county of Flint were held, as were likewise a species of British Olympics, it being the seat of the “Eisteddfod,” or Sessions of the Bards and Minstrels; the grand theatre where, in honourable contention, they tried their skill, poured forth their extemporaneous effusions, awaked their harps to melody,

“And gave to rapture all the trembling strings.”

Under the British princes, the bards and minstrels were associated in corporate, or rather collegiate bodies; into which none were admitted but such as had given proof of their skill in the respective sciences before proper judges, duly appointed by royal commission. And although the institution is now dissolved, and the character officially no more, yet those who, “born with music in their souls, _that_ wish to feast on raptures ever new,” will consentaneously say,

“But hail ye mighty masters of the lay,
Nature’s true sons, the friends of man and truth!
Whose song, sublimely sweet, serenely gay,
Amused my childhood, and inform’d my youth.
O let your spirit still my bosom soothe,
Inspire my dreams, and my wild wanderings guide!
Your voice each rugged path of life can smooth;
For well I know, wherever ye reside,
There harmony, and peace, and innocence abide.”

BEATTIE’S MINSTREL.

The distance from Caerwys to Denbigh is about ten miles. You pass Lleweni Hall, formerly occupied by the Hon. Thomas Fitzmaurice, uncle to the Marquis of Lansdowne, brother to the Earl of Shelburne, and father of the late noble possessor. Mr. Fitzmaurice used here to bleach the cloths made on his estates in Ireland. He travelled to Chester in his coach and six, and when there stood behind a counter selling cloth. He lived with the affected humility of a tradesman, and the pomp of a lord: his conduct was singular, but his motives were good.

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 niche, 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 in it; but the body of the work was never finischid. The gate-house is a mervelus strong and great peace of worke, but the fastigia of it were never finischid. If they had beene, it might have beene counted among the most memorable peaces of workys in England. It hath dyverse 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 a nother very high towre, and large, in the castelle, caullid the Redde Towre. Sum say, that the Earl of Lincoln’s sunne fell into the castelle welle, and there died; wherapon he never passid to finisch the castelle. King Edward the Fourth was besiegid in Denbigh castelle, and ther it was pactid betwene 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.” After the restoration of Charles II. it was blown up by gunpowder.

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.

In this town was born the famous Sir Hugh Myddleton. The market is held on a Wednesday: its distance from London, through Mold, is 218 miles.

In conjunction with Ruthin and Holt, it sends a member to Parliament. The principal inns are the Bull and the Crown.

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 entreated 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 retired
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 church, which is beautifully situated, is a handsome modern edifice: and the site of the old chapel is now converted into a bowling-green. Owen Glendwr, as an act of revenge on Lord Grey, plundered the town in the year 1400, during a fair, and then retired among the mountains. In the last century, the loyalists fortified the castle, and sustained a long siege in the year 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 charged.”

This storm compelled us to seek for 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 outskirts of Wrexham by no means prepossessed us in favour 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.

A friendly clergyman conducted us to the church, an elegant building of the reign of King Henry the Seventh, and called one of the seven wonders of Wales. The tower is a 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 give 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.

The altar-piece was brought from Rome by Elihu Yale, Esq. whose tomb bears the following inscription:—

Born in America, in Europe bred,
In Afric travell’d, and in Asia wed:
Where long he lived and thrived—in London died.
Much good, some ill he did, so hope all’s even,
And that his soul, through mercy, ’s gone to heav’n!
You that survive and read this tale, take care
For this most certain exit to prepare.
When blest in peace, the actions of the just,
Smell sweet, and blossom in the silent dust.

Our worthy conductor, perceiving we were great amateurs of painting, 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 Rembrandt’s, taken by Mr. Allen from a celebrated picture, in the possession of Lord Craven, was most ingeniously 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. Yorke, Esq. The grounds and plantations are very extensive; and the bowery walks, while they afford refreshing shelter from a summer’s sun, allow partial views of the counties of Cheshire and Shropshire, with the Wrekin and Brydyork Hills; in short, through these groves

“How long soe’er the wanderer roves, each step
Shall wake fresh beauties, each short point presents
A diff’rent 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 memento of the vicissitudes of fortune: the entrenchments round the castle, and likewise the original site 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 Hardwicke family. Mr. Yorke has dedicated another room to the royal tribes of Wales, {279} 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. Egington, near Birmingham. The twenty-one compartments contain the arms and crests of the Middletons and Yorkes, with rich transparent borders. This window is undoubtedly very elegant, but the subject, in my opinion, more adapted to a ball 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 our leave of him early the next morning, and pursued our route to

RUABON,

purposing to visit Wynnstay Park, the much-admired seat of Sir Watkin Williams Wynne. On leaving March Wiel, 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 Wynnstay is well stocked with red deer; excellent plantations; and the house is an elegant modern structure; but has 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, erected to the memory of the present Sir Watkin’s father. The height is a 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 elevation must be extremely fine. On the other three sides an appropriate inscription, in English, Welsh, 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 Welsh, 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 in 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 valleys 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 Middletons, standing on an eminence. Four miles from Llangollen we inquired for the wonderful

PONTCYSYLLTY AQUEDUCT, {281}

(pronounced Pont y Casulte) or famous aqueduct, erected near that bridge, over the river Dee, and found ourselves within half a mile of this great and astonishing undertaking. The stone of which it is built resembles that of Portland; and the effect which it produces, from whatever point it is viewed, is highly pleasing. 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 Mersey;
For the mutual benefit of agriculture and trade,
Caused 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 flourished
By his patronage, and
The conduct of Civil Life was improved
By his example.”

“Pont y Cyssyllte, a bridge of several arches, close to it, is quite eclipsed by its stupendous height and magnitude. In it we recognize the great water conveyances of ancient Rome, which, though superior in point of length, were inferior in other respects. Its direction is north and south, crossing the Dee at right angles. It forms, connected as it is with the surrounding fine scenery, a noble and magnificent picture; but to view it to the best advantage, the stranger must ascend the acclivities on either side of it: from whence he will be highly pleased with a scene, in which there is every concomitant circumstance that can please the lover of nature and art.”

The extent of the aqueduct is nine hundred and eighty-eight feet, and exhibits nineteen arches, each forty-five feet span. The summit has a water-trough of cast iron, one thousand and nine feet in length, and in breadth eleven feet eight inches. The elegant piers lessen upwards gradually, from ten feet width, and twenty-one feet depth at the base, to seven feet width, and twelve feet depth at the top. These piers are one hundred and sixteen feet high from the river, and from their ending, to the greatest height of the building, twenty feet; making the total elevation, one hundred and twenty-six feet. To each end of the aqueduct are added ten feet six inches of iron work. From centre to centre of each arch are screwed together eleven strong iron plates, as strengthened.

The lime rocks here are very great; and, by calcination on the spot, are rendered fit for immediate use; and, as the Ellesmere canal is opened for public traffic, they must yield immense profit to the proprietors, who are now enabled to supply all the neighbouring counties, Chester, Liverpool, &c.

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 Thlangothlen) completely environed with mountains, with a high hill to our right, bearing on its narrow peak the small remains of Castle Dinas Brân. 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.

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 style, an elegant little cottage, at the west extremity of the town, situated on a knoll. 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 ivy’d arch glitt’ring through 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 sign 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 {285a} smile?
Did Zara’s {285b} 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, {285c} 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 Brân, 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, Wynnstay Park, {286} 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.

The author of the Beauties, Harmonies, and Sublimities of Nature, thus describes his ascent up this mountain. “The sun was shooting its evening rays along the vale, embellishing every thing they touched. It having rained all the morning, the freshness with which spring had clad every object, gave additional impulse to all our feelings. Arrived at the summit, the scene became truly captivating: for nature appeared to have drawn the veil from her bosom, and to glory in her charms. The season of early spring, which, in other countries, serves only to exhibit their poverty, displayed new beauties in this. Nature had thrown off her mantle of snow, and appeared to invite the beholder to take a last look of her beauties, ere she shaded the cottage with woodbine, or screened with leaves the fantastic arms of the oak. The clouds soon began to form over their heads, and a waving column lightly touched their hats. Around was one continued range of mountains, with DINAS rising above the river. Immediately below, lay a beautifully-diversified vale, with the Dee,—Milton’s ‘Wizard Stream,’—combining all the charms of the Arno and the Loire, winding through the middle of it: while on the east side of the mountain several villages seemed to rest in calm repose. This beautiful scene was soon converted into a sublime one. For the clouds assuming a more gloomy character, the tops of all the mountains around became totally enveloped; and our heads were now and then encircled with a heavy vapour. A more perfect union of the beautiful and magnificent it were difficult to conceive. No object was discernible above; but below, how captivating! Their feet were illumined by the sun, their heads, as it were, touching the clouds. Above, all was gloomy and dark; below, the sun, from the west, still illumined the villages and spires, the cottages and woods, the pastures and fields, which lay scattered in every direction; while the Dee, at intervals, swept, in many a graceful curve, along the bottom of the vale. These objects, so variously blended, and so admirably contrasted with the sombre scene above them, called to the imagination the golden thoughts of Ariosto; and inspired such a combination of feelings, that, for a time, they were absorbed in silent meditation. While they were indulging in this repose, the sounds of village bells, in honour of a recent marriage, came floating on the breeze from below. The sounds, softened by the distance, and coming from a region so far beneath, lulled them with a choral symphony, that excited the most delightful sensations. And such must ever be the effect on those whose happiness has not been smothered beneath a load of splendid vacuities; in whom society has not engendered an infinity of wants; in whom ignorance has not awakened pride, arrogance, and vanity; and in whom content has the power of lulling every fever of illegitimate desire.”

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 Brân 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 chant, now repeat the rude dissonance of cows, ducks, 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 by the melancholy grove of towering ash, contiguously formed, 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 screened 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 Maelor, in the year 1200, and is sometimes called Llan-Egwiste, or Llanegwast. In this vale was 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 straight and formal course of a canal, near this, communicating with the Pont-y-Cyssyllte; 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 evening. The prospect was composed of the miniature parts of the immense landscape we had viewed from Dinas Brân Hill, each of which we now contemplated separately as a scene. The moon’s chequered 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 accommodation, 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 Middleton 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 it is another aqueduct, of considerable extent, now erecting over this river and valley, which though very inferior to the Pont-y-Cyssyllte, 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

“Through 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 Penda, the Pagan king of the Mercians, in which the former lost his life. An easy walk soon brought us to

OSWESTRY.

Its only relics 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 chirch of St. Oswalde,” says Leland, “is a very faire leddid chirch, with a great tourrid steple, but it standeth without the new gate; so that no chirch is there withyn the towne. This chirch was sum 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 called Stretllan.” From this place to

LLANYMYNACH,

situate on the north bank of the Evyrnwy, a continuation of the rich enclosed country, showing 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 waterfall of Pystyll 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 sevenpence 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 Ruabon. 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 calcareous spar, and few shells, or rather marine exuvial; its colour reddish brown, burning to almost white. Between the strata of lime we found a very tenacious smooth clay, orange-colour 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: wherever 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 covered with cupreus efflorescences. 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 re-commence 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 very accurate, so 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 Welsh 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

WELSH 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 entrée into Pool, Powis Castle appeared on an eminence, immediately rising behind the town, and beautifully backed by a large plantation of trees.

Welsh Pool derives its name from a black pool in its neighbourhood, (its Welsh 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, which is computed at not less than two hundred miles from its junction with the British channel. It is the great market for the Welsh 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 (anciently called Poole Castle) the seat of Lord Clive, lies to the right, about one mile from Pool, on the ridge of a rock, retaining a mixture of castle and mansion. Here Lucien Buonaparte lived several years. 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. 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. Germains-en-Laye, are now destroyed. The prospect from the castle is very extensive, comprehending a view of Welsh Poole, 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 site 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 has 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 Welsh, at last, finding means to undermine the walls, took it by storm; and after putting the garrison to the sword, levelled it to the ground. It was rebuilt by King Henry III., in the year 1221, as a check to the incursions of the Welsh; but a second time razed to the ground by Llewelyn the Great, Prince of Wales. It afterwards became the seat of the ancestors of the Lord Herbert of Cherbury, who was born here, and continued in possession of his descendants, till reduced to its present ruinous condition by the civil wars.

The road to

BISHOP’S 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 soul; 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.”

Bishop’s Castle is situated in a bottom. We found it a more extensive place than we expected; 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 valleys, 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 Welsh towns which we had passed through since the commencement of our pedestrian excursion, we felt ourselves not a little chagrined at our uncouth appearance on 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 expense. 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 could rove
At morn, at noon, at eve, by lunar ray,
In each returning season, through your shade,
Ye rev’rend woods; could visit every dell,
Each hill, each breezy lawn, each wand’ring brook,
And bid the world admire; each magic spot again
Could 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 pleasing landscape. Towards the west, a combination of rock, wood, and water, gratifies the warmest wish of fancy.

The Whitecliff, 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. {299} The public buildings are the market-house, the guildhall, the prison (called Gaolford’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 learned, “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
ELIZABETHÆ 23.—THE 28 YEAR
COPLET OF THE RESIDENCE
OF SIR 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 King Edward V. and his brother were born in Ludlow Castle; but others, not crediting this assertion, attribute their birth-place 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 King Henry VII., celebrated his marriage with the virtuous Catherine of Arragon; and in the year 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 this 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 Bridgewater, 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 from 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 style, 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 relics 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 Sydney, who attained the important situation of the presidency of Wales in the year 1564. He died at Bewdley in 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 to Edward Weston and his wife, kneeling opposite to each other.

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.”

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, a seat of — Walpole, Esq. About five miles distant 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 houses.