Part 15

Holywell, called by the Welsh Trêffynnon, (or the Town of the Well,) is an improving and pleasantly-situated place, on the great road from Chester to Holyhead; the town and parish containing a population of 10,834, with a crowded market on the Friday.

But before going into any topographical particulars, we must introduce our readers to the legend of the miraculous well of the famous St. Winefred, as put into an agreeable narrative by Miss Costello:—

We stopped at a remarkably good inn, and lost no time in going down the steep hill at the bottom of which the pretty little chapel over the fine well is situated. Nothing can be more secluded and pleasing than its position by the side of the handsome church with its low churchyard, all placed in a deep hollow, so removed from the upper town, that the bells summoning to prayer cannot be heard above, and a ringer is accustomed to go about the town with the large bell slung round his shoulders, and a cushion on his knee, against which the bell beats as he walks, and proclaims his holy errand. This old custom, doubtless of considerable antiquity, is still kept up, and we are glad that, being there on a Sunday, we were able to see the perambulating belfry.

Margaret, the mother of Henry VII., erected the graceful chapel whose fretted roof is the boast of Holywell, but one had existed long before her time; for the miracle of St. Winefred happened, according to the monks of the Basingwerk, to whom the world is indebted for the legend, early in the seventh century, and is thus told:

Winefred, a beautiful and devout virgin, lived in the reign of an imaginary king, and was of noble birth, and the niece of a man whose sanctity had already made him conspicuous, and who was known as the good Beuno. A prince of the country, whose name was Caradoc, saw the fair damsel, and loved her; but his passion was not so pure as her goodness ought to have inspired. Even then there was a chapel at the foot of the hill, where, while Beuno was at the altar praying with certain of the inhabitants of the neighbouring town, amongst whom were the parents of Winefred, to the astonishment of all, a head rolled and bounded into the sacred inclosure, and stopped at the altar. Beuno stooped to raise up the head, and observed that where it had rested, instead of the pool of blood which was there but an instant before, a stream of crystal water had sprung up. His amazement was increased when he found that the beautiful features and golden hair of the head he gazed upon were those of his beloved niece. He hastened from the spot, and mounting the hill, discovered her mutilated body lying prostrate, and the cruel prince Caradoc flying with a drawn sword in his hand. The truth became clear to him at once. Winefred had fled from the importunities of the prince who, pursuing, had wreaked his vengeance on her by cutting off her head. The saint, for such Beuno afterwards became, immediately with devout prayers joined the severed head to the body, when, to the awe and delight of all beholders, the virgin arose, as if from sleep, uninjured and lovely as ever, nor was there a trace left of the accident but a slight white mark, like a thread, round her throat. Beuno cursed the caitif prince, “who melted away as wax melts before the fire.” Winefred lived fifteen years after this event; she founded a monastery at Gwytherin in Denbighshire, of which she became the abbess, and died there.

Before the event of her decapitation, it seems the valley was particularly dry, so much so as to bear the name of _Sychnant_, {130} from that circumstance; therefore it was most fortunate that the head of the pursued damsel should have rolled where it did. Not only did the spring attest the miracle, but the very moss and stones around have properties that enforce the belief. The moss emits an odoriferous smell in testimony of the saint’s purity, and the stones at the bottom are stained with her blood, and keep their tint to this day. It is true that some naturalists, who had not the same motive for keeping the world in ignorance as the monks of Basingwerk had, have proclaimed that the moss is only a sweet-scented plant called _Jungermannia asplenoides_, and that the crimson stains on the stones are produced by a vegetable named _Byssus jolithus_, by no means uncommon, thus characterised by Linnæus: “the Byssus easily betrays itself by giving the stones, to which it adheres, an appearance of being smeared with blood. If rubbed, the plant yields a smell like violets.”

Fortunately, all the botanical and other students of the days of St. Winefred were monks, who knew well how to keep their own counsel, and turn their knowledge to their own advantage.

Our fair tourist proceeds to narrate some of the “miracles and lying wonders,” which are said to have occurred during the removal of the devout virgin’s corpse from Gwytherin to Shrewsbury; and then comes a conclusion, which we suppose the devotees of the saint of the Holy Well will regard as nothing less than “flat blasphemy.” “After all this,” observes Miss Costello, “it is mortifying to find that the blessed St. Winefred never existed at all, nor was more than an Undine, a thought, a name, a fairy of a fountain! for Gwenvrewy, as she is called in Welsh, signifies _the white hill water_, or the _white gushing stream_, meaning the overflowing well which Nature formed without a miracle.”

As our province is rather to describe the well itself, than to bandy arguments about the lady whose name it bears, we may briefly state that it is one of the most remarkable springs of water in the kingdom.

The well is an oblong square, about twelve feet by seven. The water passes into a small square court through an arch, under which the Roman Catholics used to swim as an act of penance. The quantity of water thrown up is not less than eighty-four hogsheads every minute. This water has never been known to freeze, and scarcely ever varies in quantity, either in drought, or after the greatest rains. Though this stream has little more than a mile to run before it arrives at the sea, a great number of mills, forges, and other works are kept in motion by it, three of which are placed abreast.

The sacred well is the object of many pilgrimages, even in this day, and several modern miracles are related of the influence of its waters. Pope Martin the fifth especially enjoined such pilgrimages, and the monks of Basingwerk were furnished with pardons and indulgences to sell to the devotees. James the Second visited the well in 1686; and Leopold, king of the Belgians, in 1819.

Apart from all superstitious notions, its waters doubtless possess many sanative properties.

The authoress of the new romance of “Llywelyn’s Heir,” says with reference to this charmed place: “We would recommend any strangers to the spot to visit it, should an opportunity offer, and judge with their own eyes of the lightness and beauty of the tall pointed arches and the flying buttresses that adorn the exterior; and to decide whether the interior is not even more worthy of notice. The well, into which the miraculous stream pours forth its astounding body of water, is polygonal; the columns that rise above it are singularly beautiful, and after many serpentine wanderings, meet and form a canopy worthy of the water-king, who doubtless frequently holds there his court. The legend of the saint, and beautiful carvings in stone are scattered around; but they appear to have been placed there to do honour to the house of Stanley, and not to the saint—by no means an astonishing circumstance, for the saint had been long dead, and was probably tired of working miracles; and the Stanleys were living, and willing to bestow munificent gifts, of which this building and the chapel above it remain memorials to this day.”

The church, dedicated to St. Winefred, and rebuilt in 1769, is a rather spacious structure of Grecian architecture, 68 feet long by 56 wide; consisting of a nave with north and south aisles, with a chancel, in which is a window embellished with modern stained glass. It has also two large galleries over the aisles, and the whole is calculated to contain about 3,000 persons. Remains of the ancient edifice are still seen in the remarkably plain pillars on each side of the nave. It contains several monuments and tablets, and amongst them one by Westmacott, erected to the memory of Paul Panton, Esq.

Under the chancel are the vaults of the Mostyns of Talacre, the Pennants of Downing, and the Pantons of Bagillt; in the chancel is a neat cenotaph, in memory of Mary, mother of the late Edward Pennant, Esq. On the wall, at the end of the same aisle, is a flat stone with twelve quarterings, copied from those over the chimney-piece in the dining-room at Mostyn.

In rebuilding the church, the headless figure of a priest was found in his sacerdotal habit, and with a chalice in his hand. He is supposed to have been Thomas, second son of Thomas ap David, abbot of Basingwerk. This headless trunk is often exhibited to the wondering as the image of the blessed St. Winefred! The service is alternately English and Welsh, and at night there are English lectures. Holywell contains several meeting-houses for the various denominations of dissenters. A new Roman Catholic chapel has lately been erected.

The environs, which are studded with numerous handsome residences and gentlemen’s seats, abound with richly diversified scenery; and from the higher grounds are obtained extensive and varied prospects over the surrounding country, which is rich in picturesque beauty. The air is salubrious, and the opportunities of cold and sea-bathing, render it not only a pleasant place of permanent residence, but also of occasional resort for invalids, for whose comfort every accommodation is provided, with the benefit of good medical advice, and the advantage of numerous pleasant rides and walks in the immediate neighbourhood.—There are several good inns in the town, the principal of which are, the White Horse, King’s Arms, King’s Head, and the Red Lion.

For many ages, the copious stream of St. Winefred served only to turn a corn-mill belonging to Basingwerk abbey, and it was not till the year 1777 that Holywell began to emerge from obscurity, when Mr. Smalley introduced the cotton manufacture, and erected a mill on a principle similar to that of one built at Cromford, by Sir Richard Arkwright. Soon after this, Mr. Smalley was joined by an opulent company from Lancashire, and erected, in 1783, a larger mill, now called the upper mill, which worked 12,218 spindles; the same company, in 1787, built the lower mill, adapted to the working 7492 spindles, and in 1791, the crescent mill, in which 8286 spindles were kept in motion. These mills were applied to the spinning of cotton thread, of which 26,098lb was produced on an avenge weekly, furnishing employment to nearly one thousand persons. A great part of that trade has now left Holywell, and the buildings are applied to other branches of manufacture.

There are, upon the same stream, several extensive copper mills, for rolling sheet copper, the manufacture of every description of copper vessels, copper bolts used in ship-building, and copper cylinders: there is also a mill for drawing copper wire, &c. Besides these, there are a large iron foundry, a paper mill, and zinc works.

The district immediately around Holywell, is pre-eminently distinguished for the richness of its mineral treasures, and particularly for its mines of lead and calamine, which appear to have been worked from the earliest period, and continue still to form an almost inexhaustible source of wealth.

Basingwerk Abbey,

(Or Maes-glâs), called also Greenfield Monastery, is beautifully situated in a meadow, about a mile east of Holywell among rich meadows, commanding a fine view of the Cheshire shore, with a profusion of spreading sycamores, and groves of ancient trees on all sides. Its time-worn and crumbling ruins are, from some points of view, highly picturesque.

The little at present left of the abbey is scarcely sufficient to indicate its former extent. The church, which stood on the east side, is totally destroyed.

Near to the abbey, a castle formerly reared its towers, but of this scarcely a vestige remains visible. Close to this spot also runs the celebrated Watt’s Dyke, which terminates at the Dee below. It is clearly traced hence through Northop, Hope, Wrexham, and the grounds of Wynnstay, to Maesbury, near Oswestry, where it ends.—About three miles north-west of Holywell, is

Downing,

The seat of Viscount Fielding, who married, in June 1846, Miss Pennant, the heiress to the estate. The present house was built, probably on the site of an older mansion, in 1627, but has lately undergone great improvements. This hall was the birth-place and residence of the celebrated author, Mr. Thomas Pennant, whose antiquarian and topographical researches form an important contribution to the historical records of the country. The walks are agreeable and diversified, particularly in the immediate vicinity of the mansion, which is approached by a rural path, winding through a beautiful and well-wooded dingle. Much taste is displayed in the landscape gardening and horticultural arrangements of this little paradise.—About a mile and a half north-west of Downing, on the summit of a lofty hill, stands

Mynydd-y-Garreg,

An ancient circular building of great height, in form not much unlike a windmill. It is a _pharos_, or Roman light-house, erected by that people to conduct navigators to and from the Deva. It is tolerably entire, and built of lime-stone, bedded in hard mortar. The antiquary will not begrudge a walk to examine this ancient relique bequeathed to us by the conquerors of the world.—Two miles north-west of Downing, lies the ancient structure of

Mostyn Hall,

The property and residence of the Hon. Edward Mostyn Lloyd Mostyn, M.P., nephew of the late Sir Thomas Mostyn, and heir apparent of Lord Mostyn, of Pengwern. The house is approached by a magnificent gateway, called Porth Mawr, erected at the termination of a venerable avenue of forest trees, leading to one vestibule of the mansion, which stands in a small but beautiful and well-wooded park, about half a mile from the estuary of the Dee. The mansion is worth the attention of the tourist and antiquary. It is of the Elizabethan age, though built upon the site of a former house erected in the reign of Henry the Sixth. In the spacious hall are several specimens of armour and implements of warfare previous to the introduction of fire-arms. The rooms are literally crowded with family portraits, by the old masters, the principal of which are Sir Roger and Lady Mostyn. There are several fine portraits of Charles the First, including an original by Vandyke. In the dining-room, the sideboard is formed of one piece of plank, quite a curiosity; it is nearly six feet wide, and twelve feet long; and is hewn, not sawed. The tapestry parlour is beautiful. The mansion is noted for the maintenance of English hospitality after the manner of “the olden time.”

During the time that Henry, Earl of Richmond, was secretly conspiring the overthrow of the house of York, he passed concealed from place to place, in order to form an interest among the Welsh, who favoured his cause on account of their respect to his grandfather, Owen Tudor, their countryman. While he was at Mostyn, a party attached to Richard the Third arrived there to apprehend him. He was then about to dine, but had just time to leap out of a back window, and make his escape through a hole, which to this day is called the King’s Window. Richard ap Howel, then Lord of Mostyn, joined Henry at the battle of Bosworth: and after the victory, received from the King, in token of gratitude for his preservation, the belt and sword he wore on that day.

There are many curious objects of antiquity at Mostyn, including a golden torque found at Harlech; a silver harp, in the possession of the family since 1568; the Mostyn pedigree; and the largest private collection of Welsh manuscripts in the Principality. The Gloddaeth library and manuscripts, as well as similar literary stores from other mansions of this family, have been brought here; for the reception of which, the hon. proprietor has erected a library worthy of the collection.

To the treasures of Mostyn has also been added a splendid candelabrum valued at one thousand guineas, presented by the political friends of the Hon. Mr. Mostyn, who, on the day of the presentation, October 31, 1843, entertained the subscribers, amounting to several hundreds, in a manner worthy of the best days of the ancient, princely, loyal, and hospitable house of Mostyn.

LLANASA, (_Flintshire_.)

Holywell 6½ Rhuddlan 6 St. Asaph 10

The village of Llanasa is situated in a pleasant valley at the northern extremity of the county, on the south-western shore of the estuary of the Dee. The church has two east windows, in the more ancient of which is some fine stained glass, brought from Basingwerk abbey. The church-yard contains some curious tomb-stones.—In the neighbourhood are several genteel residences, and about two miles from the village is

Talacre,

the seat of Sir Pyers Mostyn, a branch of the family of the Mostyns of Mostyn. The old house was built in the time of James the First; but when the late baronet came into possession of the estate, it was razed to the ground for the purpose of building another mansion on its site. The first stone of the new house was laid by Sir Edward Mostyn, on the 31st day of July, 1824. When the shell was completed, part of it was burnt down by an accidental fire on the night of the 11th of September, 1827; but it was soon rebuilt, and finished in a magnificent style. The house is an old English mansion, of truly handsome appearance, erected after a design and under the superintendence of Mr. T. Jones, architect, of Chester.—Within a short distance of Llanasa, and situated on an eminence near the confluence of the Dee with the Irish Sea, is

Gyrn,

built by the late John Douglas, Esq. It is a building in the castellated style of English architecture, having several lofty and elegant towers, from the summit of which the view is very extensive, commanding the surrounding hills, and those of Yorkshire, Derbyshire, and Staffordshire; the Isle of Man, Beeston Castle, Chester, and Liverpool, are also discernible; and, in the opposite direction, a small part of the Snowdonian chain may be observed.—About a mile from Llanasa, is

Golden Grove,

the admired residence of Edward Morgan, Esq., erected in 1578; but it has been considerably improved and enlarged within the last forty years. The house occupies a sheltered situation among the hills, whence the prospect is extensive and pleasing.

LLANBERIS, (_Caernarvonshire_.)

Beddgelert 12 Caernarvon 10 Capel Curig 10 Dolbadarn 2

This village, situated on the road between Caernarvon and Capel Curig, derives its name from the dedication of its church to St. Peris, a British, or, as some affirm, a Roman saint, who had been a cardinal of Rome, and is said to have resided in this celebrated spot with Padarn, an anchorite about the sixth century, who had a cell or small chapel, in a meadow between Dolbadarn castle, and old Dolbadarn inn, now called the “Snowdonia.”

The church, situated in a deeply sequestered glen about half a mile above the upper lake, is a small, low structure, of the most primitive character.

Near the church is the well of St. Peris, formerly famed for its miraculous efficacy in the cure of diseases, and therefore a place of resort with pilgrims and devotees.

The parish of Llanberis is very large in extent, and is divided into two districts or townships, viz. Nant-ucha’, alias Nant-Peris, and Nant-isa’, alias Nant-Padarn, and comprises several of the loftiest mountains in the Principality, besides numerous natural objects worthy the research of the curious.

The village of Llanberis is romantic in the extreme. It lies in a narrow grassy glen, surrounded by immense rocks, whose cloud-capped summits are seldom visible to the inhabitants below. All the parts immediately surrounding the village were formerly covered with wood; but, except some saplings from the old roots, there are at present very few trees left. In the memory of persons lately living, there were great woods of oak in several parts of these mountains. In the tenth century the whole country must have been nearly covered with wood, for one of the laws of Howel Dda (Howel the Good) directs that “whoever cleared away timber from any land, even without the consent of the owner, he should, for five years, have a right to the land so cleared; and after that time it should again revert to the owner.”

The Pass of Llanberis presents a scene of wild grandeur and fearful sublimity, of the most impressive and majestic character.

Amidst the vast ranges of these British Alps, are two beautiful lakes. The upper one at Llanberis, called also Llyn Peris, is about a mile in length, and nearly half of one in breadth; the depth is said, in places, to be one hundred and forty yards. The other, called Llyn Padarn, is about a mile and a half long, but so narrow as to assume rather the appearance of a river than a lake. Between these, a communication is formed by a stream, and out of the lower issues the river Seiont, which, after flowing in an irregular diffused manner, discharges itself into the Menai at Caernarvon. At the foot of the lower lake is a rural and picturesque stone bridge, leading to a most perfect Roman station, called Dinas Dinorwic, partly natural and partly artificial. It is in fine preservation.

Dolbadarn,

(Or Padarn’s Meadow), so called from Padarn, a British saint of obscure note. Since the opening of the new line of road from Caernarvon to Capel Curig, Llanberis has become the principal resort of parties visiting Snowdon. In addition to the spacious and comfortable inn at Dolbadarn, a new and more commodious house, the Royal Victoria Hotel, has been erected at the expense of T. A. Smith, Esq., near Dolbadarn castle, for the accommodation of the increased number of visitors whom this truly interesting district draws together in the summer months. The hotel is in a most eligible situation, at the junction of the two lakes, and within a few hundred yards of Dolbadarn castle, about two miles from the village of Llanberis, on the road from Caernarvon. Every facility for ascending Snowdon is here provided.

The castle, standing near the junction of the two lakes of Llanberis, is the only one that remains in the narrow passes of North Wales. As it was impossible for an enemy to climb the chain of mountains, which are a guard to Caernarvonshire and Anglesea, and as there were five narrow passes, the British secured each with a castle: this was the central one. Owen Gôch was here confined upwards of twenty years, for having joined in a rebellion against his brother Llywelyn ap Gruffydd, the last prince of Wales. It seems to have been long in ruins, for in Leland’s time there was only part of a tower left. The key of the castle is kept at the Victoria Hotel, and may be had by tourists on application.

The view hence is remarkably splendid, embracing the lakes, which extend nearly three miles, the various interesting objects by which they are surrounded, and the immense chains of rugged mountains that bound the vale. The view from the lake is also finely picturesque.