Part 8

Beaumaris enjoys a most beautiful and sublime prospect, with the distinguishing peculiarity, that the eye at the same time rests on a noble expanse of the ocean, and an extensive range of some of the loftiest mountains in Wales. A grander or more interesting scene it is impossible to imagine. From the spacious piece of ground called the Green, which, landward, is enclosed by the hotel, a splendid range of houses called Victoria Terrace, and the old Castle, this enchanting view is seen to the best advantage; seaward, at full tide, it presents to the eye an infinite variety, in numbers of trading vessels, yachts, and smaller pleasure boats, constantly passing close to the beach, whilst at low water the sands afford many delightful and extensive drives.

“Ever charming, ever new, When will the landscape tire the view?”

The Castle.

Beaumaris castle was the last of the three great fortresses erected by Edward the First, to hold in awe his new and unwilling subjects on both sides the Menai. For this purpose he fixed upon a flat near the water side, with the view of surrounding it with a fosse, for the double purpose of defence, and bringing small craft to unload their cargoes under its walls; part of which canal, called the Llyn-y-Green, was till lately remaining; and the large iron ring, to which the vessels were fastened, is still in its place at the great east gate.

Within the present ruins of the castle is an area or square, of 190 feet, with obtuse corners; on the right is the chapel, an admirable piece of masonry, and the only entire room in all Edward’s buildings; its stone arched roof having saved it at the general dilapidation. Opposite to the south-east entrance is the great hall, 70 feet long and 23 broad, with a range of five elegant windows, and forming a front (its turreted angles excepted) that has rather a modern appearance; and though, upon the whole, a fortress of prodigious magnitude, yet its low situation, and the great diameter of its Moorish towers, cause its ample proportions to appear of less height and extent than is really the case. This castle is reputed to be the scene of the massacre of the bards by Edward the First, who does not appear to have felt secure in his newly-acquired dominions so long as this influential order remained to raise the song and string the lyre to deeds of patriotic resistance. The same system of persecution seems to have been acted upon after the death of the bardicide; for in the reign of Henry the Fourth, Rhŷs Gôch, speaking of Gruffydd Llwyd, says—

“The best of bards is interdicted.”

Within the area of this ancient castle, in the month of August, 1832, was held a splendid Congress of Bards, or Eisteddfod, under the munificent patronage of Sir R. B. W. Bulkeley. It was attended by most of the nobility and gentry of the neighbouring counties; and the meeting derived peculiar importance from the presence of Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent, and her illustrious daughter, then Princess Victoria, now the Queen of these realms. During several months of that summer, the royal party had honoured the Principality with their residence, fixing their domicile for the time at Plâs Newydd, the elegant seat of the Marquis of Anglesea. A grand regatta in the bay followed the literary and musical contests in the castle; and the evenings were agreeably enlivened with splendid concerts, balls, and other festivities.

Baron Hill.

On an eminence behind the town stands this charming residence of the late Lord Bulkeley. At his death, it descended to his nephew, Sir R. B. W. Bulkeley, Bart. M.P., by whom it is now occupied. It has recently been rebuilt and modernised, and is delightfully situated on the declivity of a richly-wooded hill, commanding a fine prospect of all the northern mountains of Caernarvonshire, of the bay of Beaumaris, and a vast expanse of sea. This place has been in possession of the Bulkeley family from the date of the second charter of the corporation of Beaumaris, procured in the reign of Elizabeth. The house was originally built in the reign of James I., for the reception of Henry, the eldest son of that monarch, when on his way to Ireland. But his untimely death so much affected Sir Richard Bulkeley, the owner, that he gave up his original and magnificent plan, and used the part only that was then completed for his family seat. The old house was greatly enlarged and improved by its late noble possessor. The extensive grounds are finely wooded, and laid out with great taste and judgment. The gardens have been extended and beautified, and the liberal owner generously allows them to be thrown open for the accommodation of the public. Sir R. Bulkeley is deservedly esteemed for his efforts to improve the agriculture of his native county, by the introduction of modern and scientific culture.

At a short distance east of the house, in a sylvan recess, is the stone coffin of the Princess Joan, consort of Llywelyn ab Iorwerth, Prince of Wales in 1105. It had originally been deposited in the subjacent monastery of Llanvaes, and, on the dissolution of that religions establishment, was placed to receive a watering brook, like that of Richard III. at Leicester, after the fatal battle of Bosworth field. In 1812 it was discovered, in its ignoble uses, by Mr. R. Llwyd, author of Beaumaris Bay, after being lost for 290 years, when it was removed to its present situation by the late Lord Bulkeley.

A few hundred yards distant from Baron Hill is Henllys Lodge, the residence of Captain Lewis Hampton, containing a valuable collection of curiosities, which any respectable person is at liberty to inspect. Contiguous to it is The Fryars, the residence of the late Lady Williams, relict of the late Sir R. Williams, Bart., of Nant, Caernarvonshire, and mother of Sir R. W. Bulkeley, Bart.

Six miles from Beaumaris is the village of PENTRAETH, delightfully situated in the vicinity of Red Wharf. Near it are the mansions of Plâs-gwyn, the seat of Lord Vivian, who married Miss Panton, the heiress and grand daughter of the late Jones Panton, Esq., and thus became possessed of this fine property, which he has greatly unproved; Rhiwlas, the seat of the Rev. Gethin Williams; and Red Hill, the seat of — Sparrow, Esq. The neighbourhood is worthy of a visit, being the direct road to Amlwch.

The church at Pentraeth was thought worthy of an engraving by Mr. Grose, the antiquary. The Panton Arms is a good country house of entertainment. Not far from Pentraeth, and near the sea-side, is Tre’r Castell, formerly the residence of Marchudd, founder of one of the royal tribes of Wales. It is now an ancient castellated mansion. It was also the residence of Sir Tudor ap Goronwy, who did homage to Edward the second, when Prince of Wales, at Chester. On this domain is supposed to have been fought, in 818, the “sore battle of Llanfaes,” between Egbert, King of the Welsh Saxons, and Merfyn Frych, King of Wales. From this place Queen Elisabeth received annually a large supply of metheglin or mead, a favourite Welsh beverage. Close by is Castell Aber Lleiniog, where are the vestiges of an ancient fort, founded by Hugh Lupus and the Earl Hugh of Shrewsbury, when they took possession of Anglesea. The neighbourhood, in fact, is rich in scenic beauty and historical associations.

Beaumaris Bay,

Which stretches itself before and on each side of the town forms a well-sheltered harbour, and in stormy weather affords security to vessels of considerable burthen. The depth of the water near the town is six or seven fathoms even when the tide is out; but this deep channel scarcely extends more than a quarter of a mile in width. All the rest of the bay, for several miles, is left dry at low water, and has the name of Lavan Sands. Among the intelligent natives an opinion is prevalent that these sands once formed a habitable hundred of Caernarvonshire, and were first overflowed during the sixth century.

The sea of the Menai occasionally produces very singular fish. That called the Beaumaris Shark sometimes appears; a curious species of mussel; and creatures of forms that astonish the fishermen;—

“Strange things come up, to look at them, The monsters of the deep.”

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

Llanvaes Abbey.

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

Penmon Priory.

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

Priestholm, or Puffin Island,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BEDDGELERT, (_Caernarvonshire_.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nant Gwynnant.

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

Llyn Dinas