Part 17

An air of proud sublimity, united with singular wildness, characterises the place. The evening was far advanced, and part of the ruins were shining with the purple glow of the setting sun, whose remaining features stood in darkened majesty, when we entered this monument of desolation. Passing over a plank, originally the site of the drawbridge, we came into the outward court, strongly defended with battlements; from thence we examined the grand entrance of the castle, with its several projecting abutments, similar in style to those of Caernarvon. On the south side of the court is the grand hall, measuring an hundred and thirty feet by thirty-two, with eight light Gothic arches, five of which are still in good condition. At one end is the chapel, with a large window, a beautiful specimen of Gothic architecture. It was founded on the solid rock, by Edward I., in the year 1284; the walls are from eleven to fifteen feet thick: all the towers are defended by small round turrets, projecting two or three feet over, with a regular communication round the whole castle by galleries, on the same plan as at Caernarvon. The steps are decayed and broken, and the looseness of the stones rendered a footing very insecure; but, impelled by an irresistible curiosity, we ascended the most perfect tower, and an extensive prospect presented itself to our view. The foundation of one of the principal towers, looking towards a small river, which here joins the Conway, has lately given way, and torn down with it part of the building; the remainder now hangs in an extraordinary manner. The whole town is enclosed with strong walls, and defended by a number of towers, which communicate with the castle by a gallery; there are likewise several gateways at certain distances.

The ancient church next attracted our attention, but did not detain us long, as the monuments for the Wynnes are the only things worthy of inspection, except the following inscription, which is engraved on a flat stone, in the nave of the church: “Here lyeth the body of Nicholas Hookes, of Conway, Gent. who was the 41st child of his father, William Hookes, Esq. by Alice, his wife, and father of 27 children; who died the 20th day of March, 1637.” Few districts in the world can, perhaps, produce a record similar to the preceding.

From thence we surveyed the remains of the college, which in the reign of King Edward I. was intended for the instruction of youth. It is now in complete ruins: the workmanship curious, with several sculptured arms. In this town is an ancient house, built in the form of a quadrangle, by the Wynnes, in the time of Queen Elizabeth, now inhabited by poor families. The house is adorned after the fantastical fashion of the times in which it was erected; the roof is singularly carved, and the front decorated with the arms of England, with several curious crests, birds, and beasts: it bears the date of the year 1585. The arms of Elizabeth are carved over the door, fronting the street.

The river Conway has been celebrated from the earliest period of British history for its pearl fishery. Pliny asserts that Julius Cæsar dedicated to Venus Genetrix, in her temple at Rome, a breast-plate, set with British pearls; and other authorities go so far as to assign the desire to get possession of these jewels, as one of the reasons of his invading the British isles. The shell in which they are found is called the pearl muscle, and is the same which by Linnæus is termed Mya Margaritifera.

The fish, which generate these concretions, are considered in a sickly state; and it is said that on their being squeezed, they can and will eject them, which they occasionally do spontaneously on the sands. I am given to understand that a very considerable trade is carried on by an individual, very snugly, at this very day, in pearls collected from the Conway and adjacent coast. Some years ago Sir Robert Vaughan appeared at court with a button and loop in his hat, set with pearls from the Conway; and Mr. Edward Llwyd says, that the pearls found here are as large and as well coloured as any in Great Britain.

“Immediately at the foot of the castle,” says a recent traveller, {243} “a suspension bridge is thrown over the previously dangerous ferry, in the erection of which great taste has been exhibited. Castellated towers support the chains, and where the road enters the town a toll-house, in the shape of a dilapidated tower, has been erected, which perfectly harmonizes with the view around it, and taken altogether, the bridge seems to be the draw-bridge of the castle, and does not detract from the antique grandeur of the scene. Mr. Telford is the architect of this, as well as of the Menai Bridge; and though it possesses nothing of the immense proportions, it is equally elegant and well adapted to its situation.”

Edward the First made this a free borough. It is now governed by one alderman, a recorder, coroner, water-bailiff, and two serjeants-at-mace, chosen annually, and is a contributory borough with Caernarvon, Pwllheli, Nevin, and Criccaeth, in returning a member to parliament. Its market is on Friday.

The usual route, and the one which we intended to pursue, laying by St. Asaph and Chester, we determined first to explore some of the beauties of the vale of Conway; and with this object in view, took the road leading to Llanwrst: it possesses the charming varieties of wood, water, and a richly cultivated country, backed by mountain scenery. We soon reached Caer Rhun, the site of the ancient Conovium of the Romans, where the tenth legion were stationed. The late Rev. Hugh Davies Griffith, vicar of the parish, and a gentleman well known for his antiquarian researches, traced out here the remains of a Roman pottery: many utensils of various sorts had previously been found, mostly imperfect, some well designed and very curious. Amongst other things found here, was a small brazen circular shield, of curious workmanship, embossed, a little more than a foot in diameter, and with a projecting pike of wrought iron, of about four inches and a half, placed in the centre; it had circles of brass studs, and appeared to have been lined with leather and stuffed with hair. Numerous Roman coins were likewise found, and near this is a hill, called Myndd Caer Leon, or the _Hill of the Legion_. Mr. Williams says, “This legion was denominated Antoniana Augusta. The XXth, stationed at Chester (Caer Lleon Gawr, or Caer Lleion ar Ddyfrdwy), was distinguished by the name of Vicessima Victrix: and the Second Legion, stationed at Caer Leon, in Monmouthshire, or Caer Lleon ar Wysc, was known by the title of Augusta Britannica. There was, no doubt, a Roman road from hence to Segontium, on the west, and to Varium or Bodvarri and Caerwys on the east, and another probably through Dolyddelen, to Sarn Helen and Tommen y Mur, in Merionethshire; Pen y street, Dolgelly, Castell y Beri, near Tal y Llynn, to Penal, near Machynlleth, where there was a Roman encampment, and where very considerable remains were discovered.”

The next object worthy of attention is Rhaiadr Mawr, or the Great Waterfall, about seven miles from Conway; Mr. Bingley’s account of which is so correct and spirited, that I shall give it verbatim:—

“I ascended along a winding path, which, after about a quarter of an hour’s walk, conducted me to the bed of the river, near the station from whence it was to be seen to the greatest advantage. The water, from the late dry weather, was very inconsiderable; still, however, the scene was highly picturesque. From the upper part two streams descended at some distance from each other. The range of rock, down which the water was thrown, was very wide and extremely rude, being formed in horizontal ledges, into deep clefts and enormous chasms. On the various lodgments of the rocks were numerous pendant shrubs. The dark shades of the clefts, and the irregular brilliancy of the prominent features of the scene, from the reflected rays of the sun, contrasted again with the foaming of the water, were truly grand. The colours of the rock, which were every where also very dark, were rich and highly varied. The streams united a little above the middle of the fall: they rushed from thence in foam over the rocks, and, from the deep shelvings, in many places the water was entirely hidden from me below. In addition to this, nearly every different stratum of rock threw it into a fresh direction. In the whole scene there was the utmost irregularity. On the right of the cataract the enclosing rocks were nearly perpendicular, very lofty, and crowned with pendant foliage. Those on the left were very high and towering, adorned on the lodgments with grass and ferns. I should have made a drawing of this cataract, had it been possible to have expressed it with any justice on an octavo plate; this, however, was altogether impossible. The above description is expressed in terms infinitely too feeble to give any correct idea of the scene. This waterfall appeared to me by much the most grand and picturesque of any that I have seen in North Wales.

“In descending to the road, I had an extensive view along the whole vale of Conway. It appeared from this eminence to be much varied, and on the whole very beautiful.”

Besides this, many other waterfalls and cascades, along this charming river, will amply repay this digression, and entice the tourist forward to its junction with the Lledr and Machno. Near Llanwrst, Gwydir-house and woods, and at that place the church, and the famous bridge built by Inigo Jones, will engage his attention. Beyond the vale is beautiful and romantic, far exceeding my powers of description; all that wood, water, and the most rugged rocks and picturesque mountain scenery can do to delight the lovers of nature, heightened by the relief of a highly cultivated country, interspersed with gentlemen’s seats, frequently breaking on the view, are here amply afforded them. Proceeding up the vale, and through Gwydir woods, you reach Bettws y Coed; thence to the new iron Waterloo Bridge over the Conway, on the great Irish road, visit the falls of the Conway and Machno, return to Bettws, proceed up the Lligwy to view the Rhaidar y Wennol, or Cataract of the Swallow, which, when it possesses its customary body of water, is truly tremendous. In going from hence to the excellent inn at Capel Curig, by making a circuit of about four or five miles to the southward, you may visit Dolwyddelan Castle, the residence of Meredith ap Jevan, before mentioned in the account of Llyn. From Capel Curig, proceeding towards Bangor, till the road nearly reaches the river Ogwen, you may with labour and difficulty trace the old Roman road, from Segontium to Conovium, or, without any risk of satiety, retread your steps by Llanwrst to Conway.

The trade of Conway consists in the exportation of slate and copper from the Llandidno mines, from whence the finest specimens of Malachite copper is brought. The town and castle of Conway are seen to great advantage in crossing the river, which is here about half a mile over, and at high water washes the walls of that massy ruin: in the middle of the channel is a small rocky island. We observed from this situation the two castles called Bodscallan and Dyganwy; the small remains of the latter stand on a high rock above the river. The former is a beautiful seat of the Mostyns.

Crossing the ferry we determined on exploring the Criddin, a Commot, or Hundred of Caernarvonshire, at the extremity of which is that noted landmark, the Great Orme’s Head. This commot is supposed to contain some of the best arable and meadow land in this part of the principality; the shores and cliffs likewise afford excellent limestone, and pebbles for paving; both of which are shipped in large quantities for Liverpool and other markets. Dyganwy, or Dinas Gonwy, _The Fort of the Conway_, was once the residence of Maelgwyn Gwynedd, Prince of North Wales, who here held his court. The following anecdote of which, as connected with Taliesin, the British Bard, I shall give the heads of from Mr. Bingley:

“Gwyddno Garanhir, brother of Maelgwyn, who likewise resided in the neighbourhood, had near his residence a weir, called Gored Wyddno, _Gwyddno’s Weir_, which is even yet known by the same name, and belongs to Sir Thomas Mostyn, as owner of the house of Bodscallon. Elphin, the son of Gwyddno, was an extravagant youth; and at one time he had so greatly exhausted his finances, that he was compelled, as a temporary relief, to ask his father the benefit of the weir for a single night. The request was complied with, but not a single fish was caught. {248} A leathern basket was however taken up, which, on examination, was found to contain a child. This was an unfortunate circumstance to one so much in want of a successful tide. Elphin had, however, the humanity to direct that the child should be taken care of, and that no expense should be spared in his education. The youth, who was named Taliesin, was introduced by Elphin at his father’s court; and his first step towards fame was in reciting there a poem containing the history of his life, called Hanes Taliesin. Maelgwyn Gwynedd was greatly surprised at his talent, and himself became afterwards his patron. Some time after this a dispute took place at Diganwy, betwixt Elphin and his father, of so serious a nature, as to cause the former to be thrown into prison. His attentions to Taliesin now proved of the utmost importance to him. The bard addressed to the prince a poem on his patron, which excited his commiseration, and caused him to issue an immediate order for Elphin’s release. Taliesin continued to receive, throughout the whole of his life, the attentions, the admirations, and the applause which his talents justly merited; and after his death he was honoured with the appellation of _The Prince of the British Bards_.”

Gloddaith woods particularly, and most part of this small district, afford considerable amusement to the botanist; as will the libraries of Sir Thomas Mostyn, Bart. at Gloddaith and Bodysgallen, to the antiquarian and the historian. The former of these seats was built in the reign of Queen Elizabeth; since which period both mansion and furniture have experienced but trifling alterations.

The tremendous precipice on the west side of the Ormshead is worthy of a visit. The sea view is very extensive, and generally enlivened by the passing of Liverpool shipping; you likewise command a view of the Isle of Man, and occasionally views of the Irish, Lancashire, and the distant haze of the Scottish coast. The sea birds frequent these cliffs and shores in great abundance, more particularly gulls, razor-bills, guillemots, corvorants, herons, and the peregrine falcon; the latter of which, in the days of falconry, was held in such high estimation, that the celebrated Lord Burleigh sent a letter of thanks for a present of a cast of hawks from this place to an ancestor of Sir Thomas Mostyn’s. Unprotected by any shelter, on the summit of the high promontory, stands the small church of Llandudno, but little famous for any thing but its singular situation, and its service as a beacon. Proceeding along the mail-road, with the sea on our left, and low rocks on our right, nothing particular attracted our attention, till in descending a hill about two miles from the neat bathing-town of

ABERGELE,

we observed, on our right, two immense caverns, about half way up the mountain; they are called Cavern-arogo, and run four or five hundred yards into the ground; but their real extent has never been ascertained with accuracy. From these mountains vast quantities of lime are shipped for Liverpool and many parts of England.

Abergele, situate on the edge of Rhuddlan Marsh, is a small neat town of one street, resorted to in the summer season for bathing. The sands afford excellent walking; in the evening we lingered on the beach for a considerable time, enjoying the calm but cheerful beauty of nature, and inhaling the pure sea-breeze—for

. . . “The wind was hush’d; And to the beach each slowly-lifted wave, Creeping with silver-curl, just kiss’d the shore, And slept in silence.”

MASON’S GARDEN.

With pleasure mixed with reverential awe, we trod Rhuddlan Marsh, so celebrated in the annals of history. Here the ill-fated Richard II. was betrayed into the hands of Bolingbroke, and taken prisoner to Flint: here Offa, King of Mercia, met his untimely death: here the Welsh, under the command of Caradoc, in the year 795, were defeated in a conflict with the Saxons, and their leader slain in the action. This memorable and tragic event is handed down to posterity by an ancient celebrated and affecting ballad, called Morva Rhuddlan, or the Marsh of Rhuddlan, composed by the bards on the death of Prince Caradoc.

The ground we trod, connected with so many events, revived in our minds the memory of past ages; a series of historical events came to our recollection; events that are now so distant, as almost to be obliterated from the page of history. Passing over a bridge of two arches, thrown over the river Clwyd, we entered

RHUDDLAN,

once the largest and most respectable town in North Wales. Walking over the ruins of the castle, in which Edward I. kept three Christmases, I recurred, by a natural association of ideas, to the times when the parliament-house, the halls, and courts, echoed with the voices of those, who have been long since swept from the earth by the unerring hand of death. One solitary Gothic window is now only remaining to distinguish the old parliament-house, where King Edward the First instituted that famous code of laws, under the title of the statute of Rhuddlan, from a neighbouring barn: and what once contained the parliament of England, now contains nothing but bark for the supply of a tan-yard.

The old castle is built of red stone; it consists of a square area, strongly fortified with a wall. This court we entered through the grand gateway, between two round towers: the opposite side corresponds. The whole is encircled by a deep entrenchment faced with stone on the river side, with two square towers, one of which still remains.

“The Bishop of St. Asaph,” says Mr. Evans, “distributes among the farmers of the parish of Rhyddlan, five guineas for the best crop of turnips; and three guineas for the best crop of wheat upon a fallow, manured only with lime compost. All the competitors partake of a feast on the day of decision; and the victors, beside their premiums, have the honourable distinction of being crowned with the garland of Ceres, by some of the ladies present.” This stimulus has had great effect in exciting a spirit of improvement.

The road from hence to

ST. ASAPH,

affords a most rich and beautiful walk, extending along the celebrated vale of Clwyd. This rich tract of land, called the Eden of North Wales, extends in length about twenty-five miles, and in breadth about eight. The neighbourhood of Ruthin affords the best view of this vale. Though it is by no means so interesting and romantic as the vale of Glamorgan, yet its high cultivation, and the picturesque, but moderate height of the hills, rising on each side of the river Clwyd, renders the scenery pleasing: its chief produce is corn. Both these vales claim the attention of the traveller; and both have to boast of particular beauties. One mile from St. Asaph we passed, on our right, the elegant seat of Sir Edward Lloyd. We still followed the banks of the Clwyd; and at the farthest extremity a light elegant bridge of seven arches, with the dark tower of St. Asaph’s cathedral rising on an eminence just over it, gave a picturesque effect to the whole scenery.

The town itself is built on a hill, in one straight line, with a few neat houses. The cathedral naturally demands attention: the inside is remarkably neat and elegant, entirely Gothic, with the ceiling of chesnut, and open ribs like the skeleton of a ship. The monument of David ap Owen, bishop of this diocese, was particularly pointed out to us. The bishop’s palace has been entirely rebuilt by the present diocesan. The choir consists of a bishop, dean, six canons, seven prebends, and four vicars. There are no monuments in the churchyard, and few of any importance within its venerable walls.

St. Asaph receives its derivation from its patron, who established a bishop’s see here, in the year 590: but in British it is named Llan-Elwy, on account of the conflux of the Elwy with the Clwyd. It is singular, that the cathedral is not used as a parish church, as all the other Welsh cathedrals are; and that the bishop’s jurisdiction extends over no entire county, but includes part of Flintshire, Denbighshire, Montgomeryshire, Merionethshire, and Shropshire.

From St. Asaph to Holywell the distance is about ten miles. The first part of the road continuing through the vale of Clwyd, affords prospects of agricultural riches rarely excelled; the latter part is rocky and rugged, but pleasant. On the one side you enjoy the distant view of Denbigh, with its ancient castle fast mouldering to decay, and on the other that of Rhyddlan, backed by the distant sea view. The whole of this tract of country abounds in lead-mines and calamine. Between this road and the sea stands Downing, late the residence of the celebrated Mr. Pennant, to whom the world was so much indebted for his numerous and laborious literary publications.

On the summit of a lofty hill called Carreg, in the parish of Whitford, about two miles to the left of the road, is an ancient circular building, which Mr. Pennant believed to have been a Roman pharos, constructed to assist in the navigating the difficult channel of Seteia Portus to and from Deva. This appears the more probable, as it still forms a prominent landmark, highly useful to the small Welsh sloops and coasting vessels, which in fine weather drop along with the tides from the lime-rocks, between Llandrillo and Llanddulas, to Parkgate, Liverpool, &c.; in one of which I witnessed the rising sun just as we opened the rich and beautiful vale of Clwyd;—a scene so pre-eminently fine and impressive, that the lapse of five-and-twenty years has not effaced it from, or weakened it in, my recollection.

HOLYWELL

is a place of considerable trade and bustle, with easy access to the sea. It is pleasantly situated on the side of a hill, possessing many good houses; but is chiefly famous for its well, which although only little better than a mile from the sea, furnishes a sufficiency of water to work eleven mills and factories, viz. one corn mill, four cotton mills, and six copper and brass mills and forges.

The quantity of water thrown up is, on an accurate calculation, proved to exceed eighty-four hogsheads in a minute. It is covered by a small Gothic building, the canopy of which is of most delicate workmanship. For its origin, miracles, &c. I must refer the reader to the Life of St. Winifred, or some of the numerous authorities that have particularized them: suffice it to say, that the devotees of this saint (whose head was cut off, and so effectually replaced on her shoulders, that she survived it fifteen years) were very numerous; and in the last age the well was so noted, that, according to Mr. Pennant, “the prince, who lost three kingdoms for a mass, payed his respects, on the 29th of August, 1686, to our saint, and received as a reward a present of the very shift in which his great grandmother, Mary Queen of Scots, lost her head.”