Part 8

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

The front,

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

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

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

Connubio junxit stabili, propriamque dicavit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

ST. WINIFRED’S WELL, HOLYWELL.

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

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

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

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

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

HAWARDEN CASTLE, FLINTSHIRE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ABERGLASLYN, CAERNARVONSHIRE.

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

ST. ASAPH.

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

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