Part 2

It is an example of simple neatness and good taste. The cottages are built in the Swiss style, with singular rustic elegance, and have the appearance of comfort and quiet. The inhabitants are mainly indebted for the beauty of their rustic cottages to the Countess Dungannon of Brynkinallt, and for the uniformity and useful convenience of water in every house, which is conveyed by leaden pipes, to the exertions and influence of Mrs. Myddelton Biddulph, the owner of the Castle, and the elder branch of the much-respected family of the Myddeltons. She is Lady of the Manor of Chirk, and has built and endowed a school for the education of the village children. Her exertions to promote the comfort and interest of her tenantry are worthy imitation.

Near the church, and now enclosed in a garden, stands an artificial mount, which Mr. Pennant conjectures to be coeval with Offa’s Dyke. {31} A similar one stood on the opposite side, where now the road runs. These mounts were probably Saxon stations, and curbs to the Welch, to prevent them from violating the line of demarcation which Offa had formed.

The church is a capacious old structure, dedicated to St. Mary, and was formerly an impropriation belonging to the Abbey of Valle Crucis. It has a tower steeple, containing six bells. All the east side of the church wall within is nearly covered with marble monuments of the Chirk Castle family. A bust of Sir Thomas Myddelton, and another of his Lady, are well executed. There are also many other remarkable _memento mori’s_ within the church, well worth the attention of those who love to muse on

“Names once famed, now dubious or forgot, And buried midst the wreck of things which were.”

I believe there are not standing within the same compass of ground in the kingdom of Great Britain, three mansions so eminently deserving admiration for magnificence, grandeur, and beauty, as Wynnstay, Chirk Castle, and Brynkinallt; the latter of which I shall now proceed to describe.

Brynkinallt

Is about one mile from the village of Chirk, and is the ancient seat of the noble family of the Trevors, as I find in an authentic genealogical table, of which the following is a short extract:—“In the reign of King Richard II. there was a noble peer, by name Geofry Lord Trevor, and also John Trevor, Bishop of St. Asaph, and Chancellor of Chester. He continued in the bishoprick to the sixth year of King Henry IV. And in the reign of King Henry VI. (1421) lived two brothers descended of this honourable family, namely, John and Richard. John, the eldest brother, was seated at Brynkinallt. He married Agnes, daughter and heiress of Peter Chambre, of Pool, Esq. by whom he had issue five sons, who laid the foundation of many noble branches. Robert, the eldest, succeeded his father at Brynkinallt. He married Catherine, daughter and heiress of Llewellen Ap Howel De Mould, and had issue. From Edward, the second son, by Amy, daughter of James Ryffin, Esq. descended Mark Trevor, from whom descended the Viscount Dungannon in Ireland.” From him the nobleman who at present inherits the title, and the residence of Brynkinallt, is a lineal descendant; and under his auspices, aided by the exquisite taste of his Countess, this superb edifice has attained the acme of beauty.

To rush at once into this charming labyrinth of delight would fill the mind with confusion; and the beholder would be at a loss in what direction to commence his observations, where every part claims his admiration. I therefore beg my readers will accompany me about two miles on the Oswestry road, to Bryn y Gwyla Lodge, a beautiful triumphal arch-like entrance into Bryn y Gwyla Park, through which a new road is now forming to Brynkinallt. This part of the domain is in Shropshire; the interesting stream of the Ceriog dividing Shropshire from Denbighshire at this place.

As you proceed towards the river, whose sides are charmingly clothed with forest trees, and whose banks are fringed with shrubs to the water edge, the eye is caught by some of the pinnacles of Brynkinallt, and by the blue smoke arising from the mansion, which seems playfully to linger among the lofty summits of the luxuriant trees that adorn it. Proceeding on the highest road, called the Green Drive, which runs along the top of the Hanging Wood, whose majestic and venerable timber seems to continue the luxuriant line of wavy branches to the very mansion, through one of the natural vistas which here and there present themselves, Brynkinallt bursts upon the sight in all its beauty, embosomed in the softened and variously tinted foliage of the plantations which surround it. From this spot the most interesting and picturesque view of the place is obtained; and I believe it is the point from whence an artist of some celebrity has designed a picture of the mansion.

At the termination of this drive the murmuring Ceriog is crossed by an ornamental stone bridge, at the foot of which, on the bank of the river, stands a simple rustic cottage, richly clothed with ivy, and formed of unhewn pebble stones. At this lodge is kept a key of the bridge gate; and a bell attached to the gate procures attendance. Crossing the bridge into Denbighshire, the elegant taste of the inheritor of the place begins to display itself. New beauties appear at every step, as you approach the house; pheasants feed in numbers on the smooth verdant lawn before the windows, and seem to give an earnest of the quiet and security of the domain.

This beautiful place is thus mentioned by Mr. Pennant:—“From Chirk (he says) I made an excursion to Brynkinallt, about a mile below the village: this had been the seat of the Trevors. The house is of brick, built in 1619.” {38} Nor can I find more attention bestowed on this charming place by any of the numerous tourists who have given an account of their excursions to the public; and I am at a loss to account why this, the most unique and beautiful spot in the neighbourhood, should thus long have escaped attention.

The house is undoubtedly the work of Inigo Jones, and was built on the site of a former mansion of brick, either in the latter part of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, or early in the reign of James I. The additions made by the present worthy possessor are ornamental and useful, and are formed so judiciously, and so strictly in character with the old part, as not to be distinguished from the original design. I should call the style demi-gothic; it is now cased over with mastic or Roman cement, and has all the appearance of well hewn stone; and some think it will have equal durability.

The house is formed with a noble mansion-like centre, decorated with minarets and pinnacles, and flanked by two low retiring wings, making altogether a very beautiful and ornamental front. The grand entrance is through a conservatory and viranda, elegantly decorated with choice flowers and exotic plants. Over the inner entrance door are the arms of the Marquis of Wellesley, Viceroy of Ireland, emblazoned upon glass, occupying the whole width of the doorway, and bearing an inscription, likewise painted on the glass, signifying that the Marquis presented this painted glass as a mark of his esteem to his dear friend and relation, Lord Viscount Dungannon. The execution is good, and does great credit to the Irish artist.

Advancing a few steps into the interior, the eye is arrested by the brilliancy of the scene which breaks upon the sight. Immediately in front, through the spacious hall, is a grand flight of stairs, terminated by a richly stained glass window, and leading to a gallery that surrounds the hall, and which is decorated with the busts of much distinguished and eminent persons, as the King, the Duke of York, the Duke of Wellington, &c. Up the passage to the left hand, the view is bounded by the superb dining room; and on the right it terminates in a charming conservatory, through which is a way to the pleasure grounds and gardens. From the dining room on the extreme left, to the conservatory on the right, it is about one hundred and sixty feet.

To particularize or to give an adequate idea of the superb and very tasteful decorations of every room in this elegant mansion is far beyond my power of description; and therefore I dare not make the attempt. Suffice it to say, that every nook seems decorated by the hand of taste, guided by the most correct judgment; all is elegantly superb, and chastely grand. In some of the windows is much old painted glass, particularly in the library, where there are some very excellent specimens.

Here is also a valuable collection of china; and in one of the rooms are some beautiful vases of that fragile material.

The mansion is adorned throughout with valuable pictures by the old masters, some of which his Lordship selected in Italy. There is a landscape near the fire-place, in the same room where the china vases stand, painted by Claude Lorraine, which is a most beautiful production of that great master. In short,

“Whatever in this worldly state Is sweet and pleasing unto living sense, Or that may daintiest fantasie aggrate, Is poured forth with plentiful dispense, And made there to abound with lavish affluence.”

SPENCER.

The beauty and elegance abounding in this place must be seen to be justly appreciated; and the urbanity and gentlemanly condescension of the noble owner, in affording me the means of gratifying my inquiries and curiosity, will never be effaced from my memory.

In the adjoining shrubbery is an ornamental building called the china room, fitted up (it would be superfluous to say elegantly) by Lady Dungannon. Within the room are deposited the most valuable and beautiful specimens of old china. The walls are covered with plates, dishes, &c. in many various figures and forms. There is a fire-place in the room, and a small portable collection of books for the amusement of a passing hour. In a room adjoining is an assemblage of cream-coloured pottery, in its greatest variety; and behind all, is a cool, well arranged dairy.

To some, and to ladies in particular, the examination of the china room will afford the highest gratification. For myself, I must confess, the exquisite specimens of art I had just been viewing in the mansion so entirely engrossed my mind, that I could not look on these later morceaus with the attention they merited.

I have before stated that the river Ceriog runs through part of the domain; and it is made to contribute much to its beauty. It passes through a deep and thickly wooded dingle, and a rural and shady walk winds along the glen to another entrance lodge, about half a mile from Chirk. The way is enlivened by game springing before you at every step, and rousing the attention from that soothing melancholy which the umbrageous solemnity of the walk is calculated to inspire.

There are four lodges, or gates of entrance into the domain, inhabited by some of his Lordship’s dependents. They are all built in an ornamental and romantic style; but about them, though so varied in design, there are no disjointed or distorted features to offend the most fastidious.

“And that which all fair work doth much aggrace, The art which wrought it all appeareth in no place.”

SPENCER.

Brynkinallt, as well as Chirk, is on the English side of Offa’s Dyke, to which I shall now return on my way to the Berwyn Mountains; observing by the bye, that although this part of the country is called Wales, yet that Offa’s Dyke, made in the year 776, cut it off from the Principality, and John of Salisbury, in his Polycraticon, writeth thus:—“Harold ordained a law, that what Welchman soever should be found with a weapon on this side the limit which he had set them (that is to say, Offa’s Dyke), he should have his right hand cut off by the King’s officers.” {45} So, as Harold II. reigned nearly three hundred years after the Dyke was cut, it is plain, by this law, that it continued to be considered the line of demarcation at that time; and even to this day the bell of vassalage, the curfew, is rung every night at Chirk, that is, on the English side the Dyke; but is never heard at Llangollen, which is on the Welch side. This goes far to prove that William’s English laws reached Chirk, and no farther. Leaving the Dyke, I now return to the Berwyn Mountains.

Berwyn MOUNTAINS.

“Clouds rest on the hills: spirits fly, and travellers fear.

“Where are our chiefs of old? Where our Kings of mighty name? The fields of their battle are silent: scarce their mossy tombs remain.”

RETURNING towards Llangollen by the old road near Chirk Castle, called Oswestry way, the Berwyn Mountains begin to raise their lofty summits. {47} These Mountains occupy the eastern side of Merionethshire, and branch into the counties of Denbigh and Montgomery. Their southern boundary is the river Tannant; their northern the Dee. Their length from north to south is about sixteen miles; their breadth from east to west varying from five to ten miles. {48} Their highest tops are Cader Fronwen, or the Whitebreast, and Cader Ferwyn. On the summit of the former a large quantity of stones, collected from a distance, and brought here with much labour and difficulty, are cast round a stone pillar, marking the burial-place of some chief, whose very name is now forgotten.

These Mountains, as I have before said, form the southern side of the vale of Llangollen; and forming a frontier barrier for this part of North Wales, they have been the scene of many a bloody contest, and on these hills the hardy sons of Cambria have successfully opposed the encroaching armies of their Saxon neighbours. I trust my readers will excuse me if I relate one of the most interesting events of that kind which took place on this part of the Berwyn Mountains, and within my prescribed limits.

Henry II. King of England, being exasperated by the repeated predatory incursions of the Welch, {49} and by the advantage they took of ravaging the English territories in his frequent absence, and finding that no treaties could bind them, resolved on his return from Normandy to lead an army against Wales; and having assembled a strong body of veteran troops, selected from all parts of his very extensive dominions in Normandy, Flanders, Anjou, Gascoine, and England, {50} and hearing of some daring inroads made by the North Wales men, he early in the year 1165, put himself at the head of this chosen army, and set forward for North Wales, resolving to destroy without mercy every living thing he could meet with. Having advanced to Croes Oswalt, now Oswestry, he encamped there, and sent forward a body of men to try the passes of the Dyke and Ceriog, who being met near Castell Crogen, as has been before stated, were there defeated, and buried in the Dyke.

It is probable that the victorious Welchmen were a party detached from the Welch army; for Owen Gwynedd, then Prince of Wales, having heard of the great preparations made by the King, had very prudently confederated all the power of the country, and had assembled his forces at Corwen, a very strong country in Edernion, and there awaited the King’s approach. He had with him, besides his brother Cadwalader, and all the power of North Wales, Prince Rhys, with those of South Wales, Owen Cyfeeliog and Madog Meredith, with the strength of Powis; in short, all the forces the Welch could muster. {51}

The King, finding the Welch so strong, and knowing their fickleness, stayed some time at Oswestry, in expectation that a confederacy so hastily formed would as suddenly dissolve; but finding them firm and determined in their adherence, and that his enemies were so near, he became desirous to bring on an engagement. He therefore moved towards the Dyke with his whole army, and pushed on a party to the Ceriog river, which washes the foot of the Berwyn; giving orders that the banks should be cleared of the woods, which at that time formed a complete jungle, to prevent his troops falling into the ambuscade of the enemy.

It would seem the Welch had taken the precaution to guard the passes of the river; for the King in person, in an attempt to get possession of a bridge, experienced one of those hair-breadth escapes which sometimes decide the fate of kingdoms: {52}—A Welch archer, having marked the personal exertions of the King, and fired with the hope of freeing his country, chose a place of concealment, from whence, watching his opportunity, he discharged an arrow with such deadly aim, that it must inevitably have slain the King, had not Hubert De St. Clair, Constable of Colchester, who was in close attendance, and whose name is deservedly recorded for his devotion to his monarch, seeing the danger, rushed into the course of the fatal shaft, and received it in his heart; thus terminating his attachment with his life.

Whilst Henry was thus employing his forces in clearing the banks of the Ceriog, a party of Welchmen, relying on their knowledge of the country, and prompted by patriotic zeal, attempted to surprise his vanguard, consisting chiefly of pikemen, and the flower of the King’s army. This brought on a very bloody engagement, although not general, which cost the lives of many brave men on both sides; but the attack having been commenced without any preconcerted plan, and merely from a sudden ebullition of desperate daring, Henry’s veterans were victorious, and making good the passage of the river, advanced up the Berwyn.

In the mean time, the Welch Princes had advanced with their army from Corwen, and had taken a strong position on the frontier ridge. A fieldwork and entrenchment are still visible on the Mountain, over Llangollen, and was probably the station of part of the Welch forces, under Owen Gwynedd and his allies. Henry, finding his formidable enemy thus advantageously posted on the crown of the hill, did not deem it prudent to attack him in this position, and therefore encamped his forces on the lower part of the Mountain. {55}

In this manner the two armies lay menacing each other; the Welch carefully improving every opportunity of annoyance, and from their lofty and advantageous situation watching every movement of the King’s forces. Henry used every means in his power to induce them to quit their camp, and attack him, but in vain: while the Welch, by means of their irregular adherents, cut off all supplies from the English, and reduced them to the greatest straits and distress; added to which, the rain now fell in torrents, and pouring down the sides of the Mountain, rendered the English station so soft and slippery that they were obliged to retreat, with great loss in men, horses, and warlike stores, leaving the Welch masters of the field.

The Welchmen, as might naturally be expected, exultingly celebrated this triumph; while Henry, baffled and disgraced, and with all his threats unperformed, gave way to rage, and added savage cruelty to his disgrace. He at this time held as hostages Rhys and Cadwallhon, the two sons of Owen Gwynedd; and also Cynric and Meredith, the two sons of Rhys Ap Gryffydh, of South Wales; as likewise the sons and daughters of other Welch Lords. {56} In the savage fierceness of his rage, he ordered the eyes of these innocent victims to be pulled out, and the ears of the young gentlewomen to be stuffed.

From this digression, for which, as pointing out the places where these historical facts happened, I hope my readers will pardon me, I now return to the Oswestry old way, which runs near Chirk Castle.

Not more than sixty years ago, this used to be the public high road to Oswestry, although the capacious and excellent road which now skirts the Mountains’ base would almost induce one to think it impossible. A very respectable and old inhabitant of Llangollen informs me, that before the road was altered and improved, some of the family from Chirk Castle used to visit Llangollen once a year in the family coach. On the appointed day, which was generally known beforehand, all the inhabitants were on the alert; and no sooner was the rumble of the ponderous wheels heard on the stones, than young and old, sick and lame, poured out of their dwellings to see the wonderful phenomenon; and during the few hours of its stay in the town, it attracted as much attention as a show of wild beasts at a country fair. On its return to the Castle, the young men of the village contended for the honour of assisting it to get up the hill again; and this was the only vehicle of the kind seen once a year in Llangollen, where now the most splendid and elegant carriages, from the gig to the state-coach, roll along, amid these stupendous rocks and mountains, upon roads as smooth, as level, and as good, as any in the kingdom.

The Oswestry old way is not now much frequented, but it continues from Chirk Castle along the top of the Mountain. Many roads intersect it, but the old road is very distinguishable. By the side of the way, rise two copious springs, called Ffynnon Arthur.

From the eminence the view is most extensively delightful, and amply repays the trouble and fatigue of the walk up the Mountain. The curious Aqueduct of Pontcysyllte forms a very pleasing and prominent feature in the foreground of the landscape.

As you approach the descent on the side of the hill, the stone pedestal of a cross or pillar stands among the gorse on the left hand side of the road, but the shaft is not to be found. Trees, planted three in a clump, mark the road at short distances, and lead to the cultivated and inhabited part of the declivity. {60a} Proceeding to the extreme foot of the Mountain, on the junction of the Oswestry road stood, until these few months, another stone pillar, or cross {60b}, called Croes y Beddau; and upon it was rudely cut “_Oswestry Way_.” This inscription is of more recent execution than the pillar, although it is also very antique.

I conjecture these stones were erected as land-marks, and guides to the traveller. An ancient way from this point proceeded to the river Dee, which was then crossed by a wooden bridge. On the north side of the river, nearly opposite the place where the wooden bridge stood, was another similar pillar, called Croes Gwen Hwyfr. It stood on the road to Wrexham, and has been removed only a few years. From Croes Gwen Hwyfr, an old road proceeds to Castell Dinas Bran, by the Llanddyn, once the residence of the Owens of Porkington, but now converted into a farm-house. Through that farm the road passed in a zigzag direction to Castell Dinas Bran, and the old road is still traceable, although in some places quite lost.

Before I attempt to give an account of the ancient castle, I must beg my reader’s attendance to the Aqueduct, which claimed notice in the view from the top of the Berwyn Mountains.

The Aqueduct.

“Telford, who o’er the vale of Cambrian Dee, Aloft in air, at giddy height upborne, Carried his navigable road, and hung High o’er Menai’s Straits the bending bridge: Structures of more ambitious enterprise Than minstrels, in the age of old romance, To their own Merlin’s magic lore ascribed.”

THE Aqueduct of Pontcysylte is so called from a bridge of three arches over the river Dee, and situated a little higher up the river. This is the most stupendous work of the kind in the kingdom. It was designed and executed by and under the inspection of that British Archimedes, Mr. Thomas Telford, to carry a stream of water for the supply of the Ellesmere Canal; to the proprietors of which, in the year 1804, Sir W. W. Wynn, Bart. in the most liberal manner made an important donation of the waters of Bala pool, as far as wanted; and to obtain that essential advantage the Aqueduct was projected. {63} The level of the canal is taken at a place in the river a little below the church of Lantysilto, and about two miles on the west of Llangollen.