Part 1

Transcribed from the 1827 G. B. Whittaker edition by David Price, email [email protected]

SOME ACCOUNT OF LLANGOLLEN AND Its Vicinity; INCLUDING A CIRCUIT OF ABOUT SEVEN MILES.

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Dedicated, by Permission,

TO THE RIGHT HON. LADY ELEANOR BUTLER, AND MISS PONSONBY.

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BY W. T. SIMPSON.

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LONDON: G. B. WHITTAKER, AVE MARIA LANE. T. AND W. WOOD, BIRMINGHAM; AND ALL OTHER BOOKSELLERS.

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1827.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LADY ELEANOR BUTLER, AND TO MISS PONSONBY, THIS ACCOUNT OF Llangollen and its Vicinity IS, BY PERMISSION, MOST HUMBLY DEDICATED, BY THEIR MUCH OBLIGED SERVANT, THE AUTHOR.

ADVERTISEMENT.

FORTUITOUS circumstances having occasioned me to become an inhabitant of Llangollen, I was charmed with the beauty of its situation; and the political importance in which this neighbourhood was formerly held prompted me to collect a few notices of its local history, which I was advised by some of my friends to publish. The condescending politeness of the Ladies of Plas Newydd, in permitting me to dedicate my Work to them, encouraged me to proceed; and I now venture to present my little Book to the Public, earnestly hoping that its defects will not be found such as to render it deserving of severe criticism, and that it will prove generally useful.

W. T. S.

CONTENTS.

Page AQUEDUCT of Pontcysyllte 62 Authorities 195 Berwyn Mountains 47 Brynkinallt 33 Castell Dinas Bran 84 Chirk Castle 23 — Village 30 Clawdd Offa, or Offa’s Dyke 11, 19 Conclusion 193 Dee, River 137 Glyn Dyfrdwy 145 La Crucis, or Pillar of Eliseg 129 Llangollen Town 1 — Church 178 — Bridge 143 — Vicarage 77 Llantysilio 110 Llys Pengwern 78 Plas Newydd 188 Ruabon, or Rhiwabon 12 Subscribers 197 Trevor Hall 72 Valle Crucis Abbey 113 Wynnstay 14

Llangollen AND ITS VICINITY.

“Here let me still with simple Nature live, My lowly field-flowers on her altar lay; Enjoy the blessings that she meant to give, And calmly pass my inoffensive day.”

THE attraction of North Wales, by its romantic scenery, the antiquity of its language, and the well authenticated records of its desperate struggle for independence, renders every part of the Principality interesting, and perhaps none more so than the beautifully picturesque town and neighbourhood of Llangollen, which have deservedly excited the attention and admiration of a vast number of strangers and antiquarians. Nor have the expectations of its numerous visitors been disappointed; for, though the Alps may raise their towering summits to a greater height—may embosom in their dark recesses more ample lakes, and give rise to more magnificent rivers—yet even they cannot present a more pleasing variety of scenery, or more picturesque views, than those with which Llangollen is surrounded.

This small market town is on the border of North Wales, and is situated in that part of the county of Denbigh which adjoins Shropshire. It is on the south {2} bank of the river Dee, and the mail road from London to Holyhead passes through the town. The distance from London to Llangollen is about one hundred and ninety miles, and from the latter place to Holyhead seventy-seven miles.

The town consists of one long badly paved street, and a short cross one, together with some courts and alleys, called squares, but which at present ill deserve an appellation generally conveying to the mind an idea of neatness, if not of superiority, as they are for the most part formed with obscure mean-looking houses, built of the dark-coloured silicious stone procured from the rocky bed of the river, and from the surrounding hills. The houses are seldom more than two stories high, and have a very sombre appearance, except where the owners have had the good taste to avail themselves of the lime which is near at hand, in rough-casting or plastering the fronts. The difference of the appearance of the buildings thus finished is so advantageous that it is to be hoped the plan will be generally adopted.

Increase of population has here the effect which is usually attributed to it, viz. a manifest improvement in the town. The last census states the number of houses at 289, and of the population at 1287; but the inhabitants may at this time (A.D. 1827) be fairly estimated at 1500, and habitations in proportion. Among the newly-erected houses are some very neat buildings, at which private lodgings may be obtained, with every requisite accommodation.

Llangollen has a market on Saturday, and five fairs in the year, viz. on the last Friday in January, the 17th of March, the 31st of May, the 21st of August, and on the 22d of November; at which, horses, horned cattle, pigs, butter, cheese, &c. are sold. A market house once stood where the Hand Gardens now are, and is a convenience much wanted. Besides the London Mail to Holyhead, which passes through Llangollen every afternoon at five o’clock, and leaves the letter bags, which it takes up again about eight o’clock every morning, there are regular stage coaches passing to and from London and Holyhead every day. Light vans, for the conveyance of luggage, &c. pass twice a week from Salop. There are also waggon conveyances, through Wrexham, to Chester; and boats on a collateral branch of the Ellesmere Canal, which start at stated periods for Liverpool, &c.

There are twelve licensed inns and public houses in this little town, all of them very respectable; and whether it is owing to superior management, or to the excellence of the water, which is the most pure imaginable, and flows abundantly in every part of the town, the ale brewed in Llangollen is in great and deserved repute all over the kingdom.

Two principal inns and hotels adorn the town—the Hand inn, which is in the centre, near the church; and the King’s Head, at the west end, near the bridge. The excellent accommodations afforded in both of them are not surpassed; they are under the best regulations, and abound with elegance and convenience. Post carriages and horses are kept at both houses, and the harp resounds in their halls. The Viceroys of the sister kingdom, as well as the nobility, seem to regard Llangollen as a favourite resting-place, in passing from one country to the other.

Mountains and hills enclose the town on every side. On the south, the Berwyn Mountains raise their lofty heads. On the north, Castell Dinas Bran, vulgarly called Crow Castle, seated on its conical summit, frowns over the town in ruined grandeur, and is backed with the vast and wonderful range of lime-stone, which forms a ridge stratum super stratum, and is called the Eglwyseg Rocks. A portion of these rocks, with the little tumulus-like hill of Pen y Coed, forms the eastern barrier. On the west, the lofty Gerant, {7} or Moel y Barbwr, with the Bwlch Coedd Herddyn, and other distant mountains, close the scene.

The sacred Dee, which here foams along its rocky bed, is crossed by a stone bridge at the western extremity of the town; the church stands in the centre; and at the east end is Plas Newydd, the residence of the two highly respected ladies whom Miss Seward has recorded in song.

Having thus given a brief sketch of Llangollen, embosomed as it is in a vale where all the beauties of nature seem to concentre, I shall proceed to retrace and fill up the outline of the picture, by classing under the name of each remarkable place its description, and the particulars of its history, quoting from and referring to authorities as I proceed; but as, from the varied scenery and the romantic views with which this neighbourhood abounds, an attempt to do justice to its several beauties would be vain, I shall abstain from endeavouring fully to describe what requires a more nervous hand than mine to paint; leaving to the reader’s taste full scope to select the scenes most congenial to his disposition, assuring him, that whether the dreary waste, over whose vast plains sterility and barrenness hold eternal sway; or the luxuriance of verdant meads and shady groves—the sombre haunts of secluded retirement; or the soul-inspiring gaiety of nature in her most lightsome mood—be most in unison with his frame of mind, here may be found solace for the melancholy, amusement for the gay, exercise for the naturalist, and food for the antiquarian and philosopher.

As a commencement of my proposed tour, I shall now beg my reader to accompany me on the north side of the Dee, to Clawdd Offa, or Offa’s Dyke, the ancient boundary of this part of the Principality.

Clawdd Offa.

“The best concerted schemes men lay for fame Die fast away.”—

“O lamentable sight! at once The labours of whole ages lumber down, A hideous and misshapen mass of ruin.”

OFFA was the eleventh King of Mercia, and succeeded Ethelbald, A.D. 757. He was born deaf, lame, and blind. About the year 776, {11a} he caused a deep ditch and rampire to be made across the country, to curb the incursions of the Welch, beginning at the waters of the Dee, at Basingwerke Abbey, in Flintshire, to the river Wye, in Herefordshire; {11b} or, as some say, to the Severn sea. Like the famous wall of China, it is carried over rivers, rocks, valleys, and mountains, and extends nearly one hundred miles. {12a} I intend to commence my excursion with this ancient Dyke, and pursue it as far as is consistent with my plan. It runs through the parish of Ruabon, which is on the west side.

Ruabon, or Rhiwabon,

Is a neat pleasant village, about six miles east of Llangollen. It is surrounded by mines of coal, ironstone, &c. with which the neighbourhood abounds. One of the recently formed joint stock companies, denominated the British Iron Company, is said to have expended on two works in this neighbourhood £134,952. {12b} There are also other large ironworks, &c. within about two miles of the town.

The church is dedicated to St. Mary, and is a very respectable ancient structure. It has an excellent organ, and a pretty font of white marble, both given by the late Sir W. W. Wynn, Bart. who has left behind him a character for beneficence that has been rarely if ever equalled. This is the burial-place of the highly respected family of Wynnstay; and in the church are some ancient monumental remembrances, as well as some more recently erected ones, of Sir W. W. Wynn’s ancestors, well worthy inspection. Dr. Powel, from whose celebrated translation of the Chronicle of Caradoc of Llancarvan I have obtained much information, was Vicar of Ruabon in 1571, and was buried here. The monumental records of Sir W. W. Wynn’s family are highly panegyrical; but I cannot in this small work give copies of the epitaphs, and to record the good deeds of this excellent family would fill a folio.

Adjoining the town of Ruabon, a road passes into the park, and to the mansion, of

Wynnstay,

The hereditary estate of the ancient and honourable family of Sir Watkyn Williams Wynn, Bart. A porter resides at a small house on the left side of the entrance to the park, who admits all strangers requesting it. A beautiful road leads to the mansion, and large herds of deer exhibit their graceful forms and agility among the surrounding trees. Offa’s Dyke runs through the grounds, which are of very great extent, well wooded, tastefully laid out, and kept in nice order. The house is very extensive, and the stables also capacious. The premises have acquired their present magnitude by various additions made at different times by the possessors.

In the eleventh century it was the residence of Madog Gryffydd Mailor, {15a} Lord of Bromfield, and of Dinas Bran, near Llangollen. It was then called Wattstay, from another old dyke still visible, named Watt’s Dyke; and the space between that and Offa’s Dyke was a sort of neutral territory, on which the Welch and Saxons used to traffic with each other. {15b} When the noble family of the Wynns became its possessors, the original name was changed to Wynnstay. The house is replete with elegance and convenience, and is the seat of hospitality as unbounded as the benevolence of its owner’s heart. Under the auspices of the late and present noble possessors, both the edifice and grounds have nearly attained the ne plus ultra of perfection; yet at this time a vast addition is making to the magnitude of the park, by changing the direction of the road to Oswestry. In short, Wynnstay is one of the most beautiful seats, not only in Wales, but even in the United Kingdom.

In the park stands a fluted freestone column, erected to the memory of the late Sir W. W. Wynn, Bart. by his mother, who survived him. The elevation, after a design by Wyatt, is about one hundred feet, and is surmounted by a bronze urn. The base also is of bronze, decorated with eagles and oak leaves, and bears this inscription:—

“Filio optimo, mater, eheu! superstes.”

Which may be thus translated:—

“A surviving mother, alas! to the best of sons.”

A spiral staircase runs within the pillar to the top, from whence is a fine view of the park and grounds.

There are other recently erected decorative buildings on the domain; one of which, called Waterloo Tower, and built to commemorate the glorious victory obtained at Waterloo by the Duke of Wellington, commands a very extensive prospect: on it a flag is always displayed when Sir Watkyn is at Wynnstay. Another tower is built on a most beautiful spot on the bank of the Dee, called Nant y Bellan, i.e. the Dale of the Martin; and was erected, as I learn from the Oration in the Ellesmere Report, p. 24, to the memory of those ancient Britons who fell in quelling a dangerous rebellion in a neighbouring island, now more closely united to us. Near this place a boat is kept for the purpose of crossing the river.

From the old house a road is continued on the rampire of Offa’s Dyke for nearly two miles, and bears the whimsical title of Llwybr y Cath, i.e. Cat’s Path, although it is wide enough for two carriages to pass abreast. The ardent and inquisitive traveller will find in the interesting domain of Wynnstay much to examine, much to amuse, and much to admire.

Returning through the park to the high road, I crossed the Dee over a recently erected iron bridge; and entering the parish of Chirk, I soon regained Offa’s Dyke, the peculiar features of which plainly distinguish it. The Dyke crosses the road to London about two hundred yards to the west of Whitehurst’s new toll gate, and about four miles and a half from Llangollen. Pursuing the line of the Dyke towards Chirk Castle, I found in it a number of large and long grey stones, mossed over, and lying confusedly at the bottom. They are very remarkable, as there are no quarries in the neighbourhood, from which such stones could be procured; and as they all lay in one spot, I conjecture that they have been used to mark the graves of the slain in the year 1165, when Henry II. made his first expedition against North Wales, by way of the Berwyn Mountains:—“He assembled a large army at Oswelt Tree, and detached a number of men to try the passes into Wales. There was a narrow way through the Dyke, near Castell Crogen, now Chirk Castle; they were set upon by a party of Welchmen, as they would have passed this strait, and many of them were there slain, and buried in that ditch; where (says my Author) their graves are now (i.e. 1697) to be seen.” {20}

The place was called Adwy’r Beddau, i.e. Pass of the Graves. There is a field or two near the place still called Tir a Beddau, i.e. Land, or Field of the Dead. I visited this place, and found the field under cultivation; and it is possible that the stones may have been removed out of the way of the plough, to the place where they now lie. On examining an old survey of Chirk Lordship, I found two or three parcels of land lying contiguous to each other, and on each side of the Dyke, at this place, bearing the same name, Tir y Beddau.

From this field of the dead I bent my way along the Dyke, through bramble, bush, and brier, to the no small disturbance of its numerous inhabitants, the nimble squirrels, the rabbits, and the pheasants, springing before me every thirty or forty yards. At length I arrived at the brink of a sheet of water called the pool, on which numbers of wild ducks, coots, and other aquatic birds were disporting. The ditch and rampire continued through the middle of that pool, and the rampire is still traceable from the boat house on the opposite side; and running along the ley in front of Chirk Castle to a wood yard on the west side of it, it again deepens, and assumes its form. As it approaches the Ceiriog river, which skirts the south side of the park, it appears indeed a barrier. I took the depth a little from the farm or wood yard, and found it about fifty feet, a little farther on sixty feet, and near its termination at Pont Melin y Castell, or the Castle Mill, it is about eighty feet. At this point there is a bridge over the river, up whose banks, at about half a mile distance, is a farm still retaining the name of Crogen Isaf, or Lower Crogen.

In the bank of limestone rock below the bridge, and on the side of the river, is a cavern or subterraneous passage, of unknown extent, and which I have not had opportunity to explore. Above Crogen Isaf, and near a bridge of very capacious span across the Ceiriog, called Pont Madoc, a powder mill was about to be erected; but when the work was nearly completed, the projector became unable to proceed, and it was discontinued.

Thinking it best not to break the narrative of my progress along the ancient Dyke, by which I passed so near to the venerable Castle of Chirk, I have hitherto purposely omitted an account of that celebrated mansion. I shall now, however, return to it.

Chirk Castle.

This noble and ancient pile was built on the site of Castell Crogen, about the year 1011. I must here hazard a conjecture concerning this Castle. I am of opinion that the old Castle of Crogen was then enlarged and repaired, not entirely rebuilt; as John Myddleton, who communicated a paper to the Society of Antiquarians on the subject, says it was begun A.D. 1011, and was finished in 1013, which makes it only about two years, probably too short a period for the total re-erection of so large an edifice.

The building is square, and is flanked by four massive bastions or rounders, one at each corner. There is a fifth in the centre of the front, of the same dimensions as the others. The length of the front is about two hundred and fifty feet; the square court or quadrangle within the walls is about one hundred and sixty-five feet, by one hundred. The grand entrance is under a lofty arched gateway; the side entrance is by a double flight of stone stairs, through a postern and colonnade, into the quadrangle. I measured the walls of the north-west bastion, and found them more than fourteen feet thick, and all apparently of solid masonry. The whole of this extensive and ponderous building is of hewn stone.

On the west side of the quadrangle is the door of the dungeon, which in feudal times has been the melancholy abode of many hapless victims, who fell under their Lord’s displeasure. There is at the entrance a case or hollow in the thickness of the wall, for a portcullis; and there are two places of confinement, one below the other. The first is not formed so far below the surface of the earth as totally to exclude the light of day; it being admitted obliquely from above. There is also a fire-place; so that it is probable this might be a prison for less serious crimes, or for delinquents of noble quality. The deep dungeon is far below the first, the descent to it being by forty-two steps; and is said to be as deep as the walls are high. It is small and circular, and about twelve or fourteen yards in circumference. The iron doors are now taken away, and one of oak is substituted, which bears upon it numberless notches, not, like those of Sterne’s captive, made to mark the days of misery, but the number of horns of strong ale drank at one sitting by a party assembled in this place to drink to the health of the Lord of the Castle. It is a record of the strength of their heads, if not of their attachment to their Lord. High up in the wall are two iron hooks, fixed to support a large cheese, which was formerly kept here for the entertainment of those who chose to visit this gloomy place. The sides of the dungeon are partly formed of the rock on which the Castle is founded, as is also the floor.

Returning to the light of the sun, on the adjoining south side of the quadrangle is the servants’ hall, in which are deposited various ancient and family relics. The walls are hung round with boar spears, pikes, and halberts; arquebuses, matchlocks, and other old fire-arms; saddles, spurs, and various pieces of armour; enormous and curious spoils of the chace, &c.

Among a variety of deer antlers, is the head of a stag, of which the following curious story is told:—A young woman, crossing the Black Park at the early dawn of morning, was assailed by this furious animal. Her cries for assistance were heard by one of the numerous retainers of the Castle, whose dwelling was nigh, and he promptly ran to her aid. The stag, no way intimidated, made fiercely at the man, and literally gored him to death. The Black Park is now converted into an extensive colliery.

Opposite to the servants’ hall is the main entrance into the Castle from the quadrangle. In the large and lofty entrance hall are some fine paintings, and a superb billiard table. The grand stairs front the entrance, and lead to the stately apartments of the Castle, which have been lately renovated in a superior style of elegance by Mrs. Biddulph, the present inheritor. A saloon, a gallery, and a drawing-room, in particular, are beautifully finished, and banish from the mind the idea of a gloomy Castle, which its exterior seems to promise.

The rooms are enriched with some good paintings; and in the saloon are some finely executed portraits of the family. In this room there is a cabinet of most exquisite workmanship. The views from the different windows are inexpressibly beautiful, and are said to embrace a prospect extending into seventeen counties.

In the civil wars this Castle was besieged by Cromwell’s adherents, and one of its sides, with three of its towers, overthrown. It is mentioned as a prodigious exertion of labour, and in which no cost was spared, that the wing was rebuilt in one year, at the expense of eighty thousand pounds; which I think strengthens my idea of the present Castle being only an enlargement and repair of the more ancient Castell Crogen.

About a mile and a half from the Castle, stands the pleasant little village of

Chirk.